As it began,
The great blank expanse sprang in efflorescence
Inscrutable thaumaturgy of color and light
Baffled and bewildered by bioluminescent marbles
As they circled ‘round the brightest numen
How are we not constantly amazed to grace the great maze
Of this wondrous arcane apotheosis?

We are but dust of its great purpose
Transmute in ever sibylline change
Palimpsest clay in ethereal hands,
We too circle the Lucent arcane.
Oblivious of our infancy
Ornate in our chrysalis
The temporal larva becomes the moth
Chasing the numinous flame,

Returned to dust,
Among the rest
To which we came,
From the celestial ephemera
Back to the flesh
Our vessels are a temple transcendent

We are all children of the stars

“You’re big and ugly enough,” he did mean it kindly
as he passed me a wrench and continued to guide me.

“You’re big enough and ugly enough, to handle this truth.  
It’s now time that you learned that it’s just what we do.
We take on the rough along with the smooth.
You will learn that the world will expect this of you.”

And so, each year upon year I took on rough truths,
until cold battered hands were no longer smooth.
I grasped the sharp nettles, and I braced for disputes
until strong opposition decided to move.

I ignored muscle pains and maintained my strong grip,
all the much tighter when I felt my hands slip.
Through gritted cracked teeth, expletives would slip
but I beat mounting odds with dulled cries of relief.

Now a few decades on, I’m still big and I’m ugly,
but I’ve got a light touch for words that hold beauty.
There’s a time for raw strength but space for what’s lovely
and the lovely gives strength to meet each day’s duties.

My dad did mean well when he passed on his insights,
but there’s much more to my strength than winning each fight.
I’m no longer a big, ugly stereotype -
The best part of me can be found when I write.

The Big Dipper
An asterism of the constellation
Ursa major
Seven bright stars that
Have been there
For the best and worst
Of my life that I can remember
Over the age 3
That is why I want to take a picture
Of the group of stars
As it has guided me through
Everything
Not just telling me where north is
To me the Big Dipper
Is proof of god and his/her will!
Tell me it’s just stars
And I will say that it is more than that it’s art

Because being tall
Also means that you have to be big all
The time for those that are small.
You bend
Down to comfort a friend
Who's being
Vulnerable. All you're seeing
Is the top of their head
While you look like a god to them.
And instead
When you look for
Comfort, reassurance,
Nothing matches your size anymore.
I miss how things were before.

“don’t make yourself
small for anyone,”
You say to me.
i say nothing but i
think to myself,
“i used to be larger than life,
i used to be big as the house,
the stars,
i used to reach for the sky
but then
You told me to be quiet.”
“don’t let them push you around,”
You say—
but You told me not to fight.
don’t question, don’t argue
don’t cry, til i choke
on the tears that i swallow
down, down, down.
You tell me to be strong
but where do You think
i learned how to make myself weak?
i went and i made myself weak
for You.

is that not how i’m supposed to be?