Blue like the summer sky
His eyes
Calm like the sound of the ocean
The only notion worth making
Calming my soul to the core
At ease
Fingers combing through my hair
Hearing him whisper
"I'm yours"

They say endings are scary
Again, what do they know?
Maybe they’re just guessing
Perhaps, going with the flow

Endings could be peaceful
Of endings I’m not scared
They are regretful that’s all
But my whole life I’ve dared

Endings could be happy
Of endings I’m not scared
They are just very guilty
Of things they hadn’t shared

Endings could be calming
Of endings I’m not scared
They’re just anxious because
They’ll witness all that they feared

Endings could be nice
It’s probably not, I lied
I’m not just scared of endings
Truth is, I’m terrified.

I raise the pick-axe high up above my head.
I bring it back down with all my might.
I hear an audible thud at it pierces into the ground.

I change my grip.

The soil turns over as I pry it out of the ground.
I smile to myself in satisfaction at the sight of the churning soil.
It is a calm, soothing sight, worth the magnitude of the effort required to produce it.

I change grips as I ready myself and raise the pick-axe high up above my head once more.

I am the artist,
the Earth my canvas.
The pick-axe is my brush,
the chaos my muse.

Seeds will be sown
and vegetation will be grown.
Spoils will be shared
and cheer will be spread.

But for all the good that is done,
I am the one having all the fun,
for this sight is for me,
this art is my own.

Close your eyes, take in a deep breath of the salty air.
Now open them.

With fresh eyes, looking out you see the deep navy blue water and numerous waves in the distant water.
Crash, crash, crashing into each other.
Pristine white cross-hatching sea foam patterns scatter and reform.

You have been walking towards the water's edge and haven't even noticed. The soft cream colored sand starts to darken and harden as you approach the water.

The wind is loud enough to drown out nearby conversations and passing cars. You are in your own world. Nothing from the tangible world can touch you. The cool wind constantly battles the sun's heat on your face and hands, causing your skin to tingle.

You reach your arms out and close your eyes, lost in the moment.

Breathing in the salty fresh air you let go of your troubles, if only for the moment.

The thing that calms me the most about
                  The virus
Is to see how many people run around lost
                    And scared and stressed
Never sure if or when they could die or get it
  

With anxiety I'm constantly worried
        And stressed
But to watch as the rest of the world
             Break down
There is were I find my calm

This time  
  stay.
when you stay,
  stay still
Still.
Remain.
This time,
  breathe
breathe crystals.
Clear.
melt
into a calming ocean.
  stay still.

This time
  
stay

right here.

There are too many modern maladies
in our over stimulated society,
of social media junkies;

flexing for the next fix
likes for your muscle pics
or a salty dish of something
so delic.

Dopamine rewards
makes us want to scratch
that itch
so, we continue checking it
when we wake up for just a bit
then struggle to go back to sleep.

Like toxic metals
this mental poison
fills our techno prisons.
Until, we live in
little broken bubbles
of preconstructed biases
that fit whatever side of this
binary plague we are infested with.

So, to exit this
I take a trip
facing the space
where no one lives,
into nature
the multi-sensual cure for
technological toxification.

I listen to the sound of
wind rushing through
the leaves that move
and sound like rain.
In this summer heat
water fantasies
are such a tease,
but I feel at ease.

I follow muddy tracks
that turn and head back
then diverge
just in time to merge
with familiar patches of grass.

I see tons of green
and brown things
but hidden gems
of purple, white,
and yellow flowers
fall into my line of sight.

I breathe it in
then take a breath again
as my pulse quickens.
An hour and my sour
soul goes from dead
to enlivened
and I take the notes
of inspiration I am given
to write a poem
tomorrow.

A silken black
Draped over the world
A soft touch of wind caressing
Those who wander
Those who ponder
Those who let the beauty
Cascade upon them
For the specks of light shine
Most beautiful
On this backdrop of night

Dreams are your hopes
Nightmares are your fears
But both combined can be a tricky situation
You could have a great night sleep
But have one nightmare
That can ruin the entire night
That one nightmare that wakes you up
Cold sweat dripping off your forehead
Your breath is shallow
The nightmare that could make you wake up in tears
You just end up sitting up late
Calming your nerves
You question what the nightmare was about
But you don’t want to know what it means
It’s 4 AM
No one is awake
But YOU
Instead you go back to bed
And hope
Hope you don’t have that nightmare again

I see your eyes and I see your smile.
I see the things that last for a while.
Hoping that someday, life will a new.
Bring me your love, and I will hold you.
I'd be your king and you'd be my queen.
Facing this world, even when it isn't so keen.
Dreaming of flight, like the wings of the plane.
Landing in your arms, that I wish to stay.