You are a garden in my head.
Bright and colorful,
full of life.
Memories blossom,
and I become lost.
Lies grow like weeds,
infecting the beauty.
Your words are like water,
truth becomes lost in the undergrowth.
I take great care of these weeds;
I am their protector.
This garden seals my fate.
The gates are closed and I am stuck,
but I don't mind.
Long-cold memories sit perched
on our rock.
Waiting for your warm embrace,
which never comes.
This garden is a prison,
trapping me with thoughts of you.
There is no escape,
for the walls are high
and I have no strength to climb them.
Everything has long since died,
except the weeds
that I tend to so carefully.
They even choke out the sunlight.
I know this is not where I should be,
yet I cannot let go.
I long for my hands to once again have purpose.
But now, I realize, not from you.
The key, I find, was around my neck the whole time.
I have finally set my heart free from this cage,
and the garden is no more.
The gates swing open,
they creak as if to say, "Where were you?",
and welcome me back into the world.

Here I am,
blood, guts, and all,
with everything behind,
and everything ahead.

I’ve walked this path
for about seventeen years or so,
and for the first time,
I want to take things slow.

My minds aswarmed with questions,
What am I doing here?
Who are all these people?
What’s next, what’s that I hear?

A community of brothers?
Discussions, sharing, intimacy?
What did I get myself into,
Where’s the bus so I can leave?

Then I feel the rock fall, in the pond of my soul,
and before the ripples grow,
I can already see
That this place, this place!
is the place for me!

But the thorns of doubt are strong,
and I wonder if my soil is enough
For a beautiful plant to sprout
and reveal to the world my flower

For I am a garden
Rocks, weeds, thorns and all,
And I came here
for one reason,
To cultivate my garden.

But one plant, one flower,
Can’t do it alone.
I need you now, my acquaintances
to help me learn to call you brothers.

For though we seem an arranged line,
a row of identical seedlings,
Each of us is special
Whether red, white, brown, or purple
And I do believe
Our gardener planted us here for a reason
To lean on, to share with, to not be alone.

So here I am,
Past, present, and all.
Baring my soul for you,
As a petal opens itself to rain.

So don’t be afraid,
Of the thickets or the shrubs
We may all rise together,
If we but shed our love.
And though for me,
This is the end of a beginning,
the last chapter in my book,
I hope you all are just starting,
to bleed your ink into this brook.
Trust me, I know it’s scary,
I sat there, and there too.
I was told coined clichés,
told to be open, like you.
And though I was slow at first,
I began to flow like a river,
coursing through the stories of my life,
and all at once, crashing like a waterfall,
Never looking back.
So I hope,
and I pray,
that you take these words to heart:
Be here with I AM,
With every mind, body, and part.
This could be your moment,
this could be your waterfall,
but before any of that,
You have to watch someone
jump off the cliff first.

Here I am,
Leaping for my life.
Be with me,
And you’ll never think twice.

Living with the air,
younger than the sun,
the moon watches all,
when the suns shade is done.

clouds graze from out to in,
giving air a chance to breath,
inhaling wind from exhaled sins,
the exhaled has a better name to leave.