the best time is our secret when I am blessed with the fortune of
circling overhead the debris of your existence
and falling in love with your fecund mind each time

you don't know it yet, but so many gems live within the bowls of your pain
your patterns are ejected from your ancient fears with alarming accuracy
a test subject of exiguous view
you open the heavens on us all
and how you are loved!

tomorrow, as usual, I will come and perch on your shoulder
and peck at the pieces of your remnant mind
it's my job to let you reach your best

I cannot apologise for the same thing you do
to me