I feel like a tree
has rooted itself
under the foundation of our love,
and it is pushing away our home.

Tears of joy:

Saying goodmorning to two strangers.
On a path you followed—
when you didn't know where else to go.

A path you pondered
your inevitable end.

Profoundly finding love in the breeze,
and purpose in the birds songs.

Seeing grief in the trees,
and loss in the empty benches

Hope calling in the bare winter branches,
and slivers of life—
screaming,
in the slow ponds.

Sighs of relief,
laughter that feels like home.

A pep, in your step!

Saying goodmorning to two strangers;
With truth—
And tears, that felt like joy.

The small indicators of life;

hidden in the mist,
benevolence—
as seen in the
messy
fingerprints.

Giggles unveiled,
in a momentary glance—
as the glass is fogged,
a smile,
is caught by chance.

A small indicator of life;
minuscule,
if you will,
but even still—
love is found,
in corner-seat windowsills!

In the galaxy, stars brightly gleam,  
A massive collection, a cosmic dream.  
Gas, dust, and dark matter,  
In spirals, they scatter,  
Held by gravity's powerful theme.  

Ellipticals glide, irregulars play,  
In the vastness of night, they dance and sway.  
The idol we praise,  
Through the celestial maze,  
Guiding our hearts, light-years away.

The night holds secrets at the tip of a flame,
a silent fire, a kiss without name.
A leaf of cloud, I bind with breath,
devoured by ember, then danced with death.

I lit a prayer at the edge of reason,
star-scented whispers in midnight season.
The wind tastes like questions, half-formed,
like the bite of a thought that's weather-worn.

The world hums slow in a spiraled trance,
as if time forgot how to advance.
Here, between smoke and subtle dismay,
my soul lies folded in fading gray.

This fire was never meant to destroy—
but to cradle the dark, not shatter the joy.
A candle from east inside the skull,
a fleeting heaven in a quiet hell.