Impulsive, and reckless, but never stupid.

We don't see how much we are blessed
Until we see another in distress
I sat down next to this man on the train
Dark shades at 8 pm
Walker on his right hand
He was a blind man
Sitting next to his wife who was able to see with both eyes
Two different visions but one sight
Two different worlds collide
He held her hand with love
Far from a strong grip,
he didn't depend on her to see
When they spoke his words hit deep
He's a visionary that can't see
He whispered in her ears
Then she blushed and smiled
That's what she wants to hear....
hesitantly
Asked him to explain this love to me
He said words can describe
This woman right here is my beautiful wife
Indeed beautiful she is
As he sat there and described her physical appearance to me
As if he can see
The color of her eyes how they were as blue as the sky,
the way she did her hair in a ponytail,
The way her nose is shaped outwardly
And how her lips are the size of his index and ******* combined
He kept on
On The way her head tilts when he rambles bout her beauty
On how one eyes is smaller than the other when she laughs
The way she flicks her hair when she's mad
Then said but that's not love my son
I described her to you because I've touched her, felt her
You see my son I love her
My greatest gift was to be blind
Because I know her
See beyond the physical
I know her
I can dream up the perfect woman and she probably won't even come close to her
I can tell her emotions when she speaks
I don't need to see her cry
I understand when she's sick
I know how she feels by the fragrance of her skin
I just don't hear her I listen too
Her heart beat when I'm close
Her heart beat when I'm gone
That there my son is love
I don't need vision
This right here is my beautiful wife
"This stop is 191 st street" the conductor announced
He stood and she followed
He held her hand with love
Far from a strong grip, he didn't depend on her to see
All day in mind the story resides
How much I wish I was blind

What words break you?
What words haunt you?
Let me speak over them—
Shout over them.

Show me where it hurts,
And I'll gently run my fingers across the bruises they left.  

Kiss me so deep until every name,
Every word,
And everything that was ever said to you will be
Uprooted from the very place it latched onto your soul.

The other day, I looked up the word passion in a thesaurus.
One of the synonyms of the word passion is fire.

I found it interesting how fire,
something that could keep you warm when the nights and mornings are cold,
Can also burn an entire forest to the ground.
The only difference is,
One is contained and the other isn't.

But then it makes sense, doesn't it?

Just like a fire,
Love can keep you warm and yet set you ablaze.

And that's how I feel about you.

Deep in  the Ocean of Time
Right into the layers of space
Dwelling through infinite dimensions
There existed an atom

It searched for a friend
Found one to its taste
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed

It has no name
But there was no worry
For name is but an identification

But see there's some more atoms
And they too did the same
A little bit of sacrifice
For love needs it
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed
They started dancing

Growing in complexity.
Living things, masses of atoms for they were
Dancing a pattern ever more intricate
DNA and protein
Cells and tissues
Life came
At long last man came

He was the observer
Who measures the universe
Out of the cradle
Onto the dry land
Here it is standing
Atoms with consciousness
Matter with curiosity
Stands in the ocean of time
Wondering
Aye
I, a universe of atoms?
Or an atom in the universe?

Living in a car
in New York City

I hide underneath a tablecloth
which substitutes for a blanket

It is quite uncomfortable in the backseat
with that bump in the middle
pushing my lower ribs into my gut
as I lie on one side, and hide

Though so much better then the
cardboard box with news-papered roof
I once pretended, could protect me from
the rain

If only I could figure out the
alternate side of the street on
which to park

Please,

Turn my body
Into a garden
When I die.

Maybe flowers
Will grow out
Of the same eyes
That used to cry.

My dear, hear me out
They may shake you to the ground
But you own arms of a sword.

Strength to just dive in
Enough to rise above all
For every dent you soar high.