Bless hidden corners before turning them.
Routes destined, Security is comfortable.
Comfortable in between cushions of couches.
The tumble around the void
has no measure, endlessness.

Take a trip, Outside.
Outside limitations and television sets.
The sweet fragrance
of the hour of zeal that holds,
like a bowl of water, sitting, and waiting
for the quiet creatures and beasts.

Invigorating.

Remember Memory is like a sponge,
sometimes you squeeze, drying up. (it)
Getting farther
                     …further away
from impressions of truth expanding tenderly.

Agonizingly;
to be ******* and tantalized ,
gently through
                the break
                          of dawn.

It has to do with releasing and asking
for the right questions to come in.
Letting go on the Eve
and again on Tuesday.

What is it anyways with people
and affinity?
“love you”
is loving yourself with different skin.



He sang a song last night
about sacrificing heart beats.

Eager is good.
It looks like “eagle”
               but smells like
                    the few inches
                          away from His skin.
You can imagine why,
it may seem like a spring shower
has come over the orchard of hair.

I know myself to be more like a clock,
Moving gracefully over the periods.
Sharing script like the falling of branches
The pain, is something like the observer,
                      Ready for the fire.

Will this tree know when
it’s branches are being burned?

Even when not attached.
Perhaps they feel at piece,
or perhaps they feel wholehearted.

This tree,
will love you even in those moments
you are inside, Dreaming,
Escaping.
How many ways can it sway
before it is uprooted?
One body and home.
How many rhythms?

It’s easy to have Him be your motion for touch,
Yet,
However,
if you find yourself in the
Valley of Inspiration,
pronouncing words,

this is where you surrender your place in comfort.

The grooved palm lines
will change, the labyrinth of thought.
And then all that barreling will liquefy
into a time traveled through
the precipitation of bronze marrow,
                                          Aramaic.
From the thorn comes the rose.
When you are inspired
                  write out the channel,
                                       enough…
Enough to rest it on paper.
Then you have found
the love that is your skin.