I don't know how to write about you anymore. The words that used to flow seemed so right, so beautiful.
But now there remains only a vague hope, a fleeting scent of oranges and the sea.
You are the place my Heart goes when I am broken open.
You are the Home I long for in the early morning quiet.
You are all good things to me, a symbol now of what once was fair.
No matter how I try, you always evade my Love, and my Longing.
You whisper to me in the night breeze, yet no longer reveal yourself to my tired soul. I can no longer touch you, or see you;
I can only feel you somewhere in the deserts and mountains within.
All the time I am searching, searching for you, though I do not know how I may find you.
There is no chart of your endless seas, nor is there a path to your home in the old Blue Mountains.
Here in this Garden I write for you, and my Heart........
My Heart cries for you.
Perhaps one day, you will hear it.

I. The Feeling of Floating:
  I've always loved the water. The ease of movement, the grace I've never possessed on land. As if I shed my awkwardness in the embrace of water. Floating at peace, almost weightless, timeless, I can feel a taste of what the monks must feel as they sing their hymns. A oneness with the senses, this knowledge that I am being conveyed by the current, effortlessly, if only I allow it to move me.

II. Describe the Color Red:
   Red is the Heart's colour, and the Heart is an ***** of fire. The passion of the day burning away the night, the fears and desperation of the dark. My garden is Red, my sheets are Red, my words written in the blood of wounded hands. Burning, burning all around me, the beat of a different drum. Red is my Heart, and it beats for you.

III. Sunrise on the Atlantic:
   Once when I was younger, I caught a glimpse of what a Final Victory might be like. I had stayed up all night, wandering the empty streets and alleys of St. Augustine with two friends whose names are long forgotten. We strayed to the marina after pondering the absurdity of human existence and there, beheld a true Wonder. Just the barest taste of things to come, but an overwhelming awe. This Great Heart made of fire, bursting forth from the dark waters, an ocean of consuming majesty, such as I had never conceived. Can you imagine we, these infintesimal specks of life, being a part of this miracle, this new Day?

He stood on the sidewalk, the image of Film Noir in a trench and fedora, smoking what was probably a Lucky Strike. Casually flicking the **** aside(a Camel in fact, he ran out of Luckies a week before) he summed up the saloon/bar/club type thing one more time before stepping inside. Done up like the Knock Knock, though with a lower ceiling and less lighting, the place was actually pretty decent. He noticed his goal immediately; acid green short dress and a belt from the Iron Age, hair as black as that raven some farmer used to own....she would have been a mighty sorceress if he were in a fairy tale. As it was, she could still charm the pants off the Devil as they say, and come off without a scratch. The Patsi in the fedora took a seat next to her, feigning disinterest. Another woman with her looks may have been irritated by the lack of attention he gave after sitting down, but not her. No, she knew Fedora wasn't here for her looks, this was business, although he didn't look half-bad either. Having that **** Tracey air still works even today sometimes. Eventually he bought her a drink after she came back from a dance and a banyo call wiping her nose. He was too well cut, too clean for a place like that, and it stood out if you looked longer than a second or two. She belonged there, could be found every Thursday and Friday night and nobody who had been there more than once bothered to ask about her or try and savy with her, but they all stared. The college kids who knew their literature, beat types and poets mostly, they all called her Wanda or the Countess and a few called her Venus. She seemed to like this reference to a far darker personality than her own, and accepted it since it added so much to her persona in that place. Mystery comes naturally to some people, and it fit the Countess better than the mask she wore as a very young woman.
They sat together for two hours, talking and drinking, but not once did Fedora loosen up and cop a feel or ease back on his stool, and the Countess, for all her outward glamour, never did goose him or whisper in close. They passed right by on their way out completely intent on whatever they were doing, or about to do. They didn't take a cab, but turned and started off down the sidewalk, pretty quick for patent leather and high heels on a wet night. I was out the door after counting thirty seconds and making a very quick phone call.

It's in there, somewhere;
the heart I wanted to give you.
And out there, somewhere;
you are waiting to receive it.

Turning inward, I weep no tears
and speak no words
nor weave broken memories together
from spools of light.

Turning inward, I wander
and I watch
and wait for you to pull me out.

It's in there, somewhere;
the verse that was made for you.
And out there, somewhere;
You wonder what I have to say.

nakedness is not just the absence of clothes.
be naked with your soul.

I'm eighteen years old and I don't understand ***.

I don't understand how people undervalue the thing that is literally one of the most important actions in this life.

You shouldn't bare your body, if you aren't willing to bare your soul. You should be comfortable naked.

And by naked, I mean, you should be okay with telling them all the reasons you hate yourself and let them tell you it's okay. You should be naked with the fact that your family hurt you and you grew up feeling lonely.

Be naked because you grew up with so, so many saddening secrets and now you find it so, so difficult to be naked with your soul.

I am trying to be naked
and I struggle with openness.

There is no point taking your clothes off to only hold the weight of life on your chest.

It breaks my heart to hear stories of friends that haven't grasped this concept. They're too embarrassed to share their secrets and the first time they made 'love' they wore a t-shirt.

don't miss out on the best things in life, get naked.