The spine chilling cold of self deprecation flows from our mind straight through our heart,
The all consuming fire burning down the trees of credence and tearing down the buildings of conviction,
The cyclonic winds and the torrential rain destroying every ounce of courage in it’s wake,
The drought ******* into every drop of fortitude you ever built.

She was familiar with these adverse conditions,
Privy to every ritual and traditions. She tried to bring a smile to faces known or unknown,
Maybe she knew the pain of being alone.
She could somehow make your demons seem less frightening,
Maybe she knew what one feels with fears heightening.
She always picks one up when they’re down,
Maybe she knows what’s it like to drown.

I'm an anxious person.
storms are my playthings.
chaos is the joy in my heart.

there are things I want you to remember. you are a celestial spirit born among the stars. we may be souls having a human experience, but nothing is permanent. you will be reborn among the cosmos off into infinity. there is no birthstone or deathstone, so don't hold to yours like it is a monument, keeping you grounded to this place.

we collect memories and store them like faded photographs in golden lockets worn around our necks, hoping to stand the test of time. nothing is forever – we cannot even fathom it. keep your loved ones close, because the universe knows kindred spirits and places them within distance of contact through acts of synchronicity.

there are things we cannot document: things that surpass language, space, and time. feelings and emotions that we bottle as glory; showing the world our flasks as we either drink in excess, or keep the cork firmly in place.

as human language has limitations, the labeling on our bottles are wrong; and we are off key about the unnamed emotions and feelings we are ingesting in excess, or storing away as a collection to gaze upon throughout our lives, before we fade back to (star)dust.