i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically
you?

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.

Our souls are tired..
No, we don'tt need more material comforts.
We need nature,
we need magic,
we need longing and passion,
we need freedom and truth,
we need stillness.
We don't need more material comforts.
We need to wake up and live.

I dream of you at night;
You visit me alone.
I’d join you in the sky
If I weren’t a stone.

My heart is made of rock
Each limb is carved from lead
A single push could knock
The quartz eyes from my head

But you are like a flower
Basking in sun rays
You’re lighter every hour
At twilight, fly away.

I dream of you each night;
Your visits help atone
The sins that weigh me down
You chip away the stone

Angel of the garden,
Please grant me your pardon.

She tempts me.
Teasing me from a distance
with eyes as beautiful
as the glow of a diamond.

She beckons me,
Begging me to come closer
With lips as red as roses
in a spring garden.

But it is not to be.

Rather than enjoy the splendor
of the one I want.
I instead endure the madness,
of the one I cannot escape.

Reality, it seems
is a harsh mistress.

Did you hear me?
I screamed for you so loud it might have broken the sky,
Only to feel helpless
I think the moon heard about how much
I love you.
I think you slept through the sound.

My thorns grow
meaner by the day, to
protect my
withering heart from the
rose I cannot claim.