Parcelled and promised.
But not yours, nor mine.
Drags on. Flies past.
Never really unwinds.

A cure-all or illusion.
Could make fools of us all.
A force to which everything
Eventually falls.

An irreplaceable treasure,
That can’t be held in the hand.
Just one way that we measure
Our lives on this land.

The thing I want most
Is not for you to love me
Although I do
But for you to learn
To love yourself

I don't believe in soul mates
What I do believe in
Is people that connect
On some deeper level
Immediately upon acquaintance
And not meaning you agree
On where to eat for dinner
But the connection where your heart
Seems to slip out
Of your rib cage
Because it's found a home
Outside of your chest.

It came like weather.
No origin.
No request.

Just a shift in pressure
    inside the skin.
And something
  started speaking
    through my hands.

It wasn’t mine.
Not the phrase.
Not the image.
Not the ache it left.

But it needed a body
  to pass through.
And mine
  was open
    enough.

There are moments
when I read back what I wrote
  and feel
    like a stranger
    with my own voice.

Not confused.
Not proud.
Just…
  borrowed.

I don’t always know
 what I’m doing.
But sometimes,
 not knowing
  is what lets it happen.

Call it muse.
Call it current.
Call it memory
      from before this life.

I don’t need to name it.
Just not get in the way.

I forgot to stop waiting
When I drowned in
The stormy waves
Of your silence.
Now my bones
float above the ocean
Still waiting for your
Presence

I like to listen to my head
What does this carousel say
Spontaneously
I like to pen the silence
If it had not been written
It would be lost forever.