Break down, forever crumbling.

microscopic sand brushes my skin like ashes

of dead ones poured onto Mother Gaia.

It whispers with the wind, I am still here remember me.

We both meet at the spot we agreed to unite at different times.

Does that devalue our promise?

One day we’ll get it right.

But for now, I write you into oblivion.

Seems less than what I dreamed of but my dresses

keep falling apart. I have become a seamstress.

I strive to prepare for that chance, where you will see my body

flowing and all things manifest.

Weaving destiny and intention into clothing

I offer to the Gods for my puzzle piece.