Uncanny
Time scales
Dancing in the centre of a sandstorm
Dust filling your eyes
Words I had heard before
"I love her more than you"
Back in the abyss we go
Back in the storm...
You could have left me in the desert
Dry and alone

You are the ghost of what remains
Able to persist in soil ruined by the workings of man
Able to grow after the rage of fire
I am in awe of your ability to exist in such turmoil
Yet know that strange soils can bring rich beginnings
I may know little about your world
But recognize your strength to do what many fear

these days
i'm driving a little faster
with a little less fear

some days
i might be a bit
reckless

i realized
the other day
that
i can no longer feel
my
fire heart

most days
i don't see
anything

What do we learn from the teachings of flowers —
That one does not grow in poisoned soil.
In unfavourable conditions, we wilt.
But we can heal from the root,
When cared for and place in nourishing spaces.
We grow, sprouting new life.
The mighty stem, building stronger cells,
Your bloom becomes brighter,
Opening up to the welcoming sun.
We learn a lot from the flowers
One just need be observant of its teachings.

Not doing very well tonight
At the edge of panicky scared
Slowly. Slowly. Patience.
Courage, please. Calm.

                   Balm.

Hopeless Romanticism - is what ails me
this ever longing for a connection with another soul.
The festering desire to be loved, understood
I fear as a society we are lost
never able to tolerate the company of others —
too busy curating ones own life in a realm that is not tangible
in the act of curation we eliminate any chance
in experiencing vulnerability with another
the painting of a perfect relationship
lacks the connection we desire so much.
We remain at surface level with one another
no longer interested in digging deeper.