a spark transforms
into a raging fire
crackling and bursting  
voraciously consuming all
with time the fire subsides
into dark glowing embers
radiating soft warm heat
that burns just as deeply
as the flame that gave it life
this is the progression of love

“daddy, i want to be an artist when i grow up”

“no dear child, you can’t be an artist
you won’t make any money and will struggle”

“but daddy, i love to paint
why can’t i make any money?”

“because artists are poor
haven’t you heard the term starving artist?”

“ok daddy, if that’s what you think is best
maybe i will do what you do”

“that’s my girl”

“i love you daddy”

the character of a man is written by
whether he smirks or smiles
whether his eyes sparkle or glaze over
whether he stands tall or cowers forward
whether the lines on his face laugh or frown
and most importantly
whether he radiates positive or negative vibrations
who we are is written all over us

alone in my room
and a blessing it is
to put away my masks
in solitary comfort
peace and freedom
to be exactly who i am
in this moment

desire keeps us busy
but does it make us happy
the way love or purpose do?
love and purpose are not desire
you cannot walk away from them
once they find you

i don’t tell you often enough
and we both know
that i am ******* you
but i am proud of you
you are learning
taking risks
making mistakes
yet remaining curious
and always moving forward
to be a better version of yourself
you are heading where you belong
fear not

             — myself

when the people are rotten
fear yields more fruit than love
but to rule with fist and fear
is to become rotten inside
thus both ruler and populace
rot as one