Finding grace
Can be hard
For most

The catalyst
A hopeful
Wayward burden

Once found
No one
Comes back

Adrenaline rushing
Corrupt unkempt
Thorny veins

Lost in
Faded old
Grainy books

After my education is the party
Everyone at table, now
we are going into the world
solve the problems
There's nothing better

We can do it
We are entitled to it
Everything is possible
Who does what?
Who has a plan?

.....We didn't agree
.....and that was against us
.....The deal is off
.....No happiness for all people
.....Mission Failed

.....A hard lesson
.....to be more or all the less
.....realistic
.....or both, if you can be young
.....and old at the same time

To applauding of the stars
the pleasing sight of God
  Mesmerising were the words spoken on
    to have loved, to have once been in love.

To as a Queen; ruling my heart
she—black beauty, as the blanket dark of
  night; filled in angel’s stars.
   Mystic dust, upon the early virtue of time.
     To have loved so young.

To have tasted a fruit of passion
  minor still, but a major experience
   That which is in present, a memory entangled
    in my dreams. I’m restless,—

As my lips quiver of a then long before
  Longing presently; ‘verly for more
   As so—how could I ever forget...
          forget the first I kissed a girl!

Afterwards we know

everything, we are silent --


are mighty silent.

I wouldn't undo time. I may wish some experiences had happened differently or had never come about, but the road I took is inextricably me. I do hope that I have learned enough to go forward and continue what I set out on this long road for in the first place: to live courageously, to build precious community, to uncover memories buried, to know love firsthand--not just love, but liberation, interdependence, intimacy. My heart, the heart of chosen family to lead me on so that I may find why time could not undo me.

The power of play
The power to make you feel alive
Remember that existence isn’t meant to be lived in vain
But to be experienced
If you care to thrive.

Cuts at the grass, in these fields
of abundant life. The beauty of little; is
the most we'd all appreciate.

And as I yield in the fields of their many flowers.
Beauty, is the something only belonging to the
particular eye. A keen to thought; as you tell yourself
'he or she, is so lovely,' in your head at first.

And as the sights capture your words,
the experience of beauty has you in it's grips.

Oh how an experience lasts a moment with
experience. The beautiful moments I've had;
how could I ever lose the experience?

The experiences of love, and heartbreak. Of healing,
and hurt. Of wholeness, and brokenness. And of having,
and not. The beautiful moments I've had; how could I
ever lose the experience?

I am the present character, from past experiences.
And the future character, from what I've learnt from
present experiences.

Information is weight that holds
down and holds back like a jungle
like so many vines and chutes
mud and rain that keeps
you struggling and straining
towards that place on a map
the high point that once atop
promises an unambiguous view,
the place that looks so close
there's no need to carry a pack
but nine hours later, hacking
through underbrush, pulling
at leeches and swatting mosquitos
finds you crippled by heat
cursing the map that so
grossly misrepresented the
relationship between yourself
and the place you wished to reach,
the map that never mentions, never,
that should you ever achieve
that keystone ridge, that high and
illuminating view, you will look out
to see the impeding silhouette of the
next ridgeline blocking your way.