In the opened cavity of my chest,
I saw a vibrant Wood Lily.

When I walked inside, upon further inspection,
I found it only to be a discarded banana peel
for me to slip on.

(A dedication before breath; For)

Everything that I do, I do for
you.
Everything that I am, I am for
you.
I know you, just the same.

Seated within my body, like the air that passes by;

Forgive me when I run away-
For we both know that I am scared of myself,
As I learn to navigate a labyrinthian, mobile body,
and every moment that it takes.

Still, in shapes, many follow.
To create, I have no choice but to pursue.
So in each piece, each stroke, in each breath
I pursue in you

So that one day, and many more,
Through the work of my hands,
I can see you breathe too.

(The Genius Loci of the landscape of my heart.)

To what, for what, do I adhere?
To mend again a broken heart,
from shear to shear, shaving comfort off sheep-
collecting solace, to bring near.

But when my hands are cracked and my blood has seeped through,
who then,
can serve this purpose again?

When my blood has been spun into a thousand weaving threads,
may its embers provide for you
Warmth
in a tightly knit wrap.

But if you reach for me then, only,
when our peace has been dyed and my body has run cold-
please, do not panic.
I suppose, it must only be a catnap.