My bed is the only thing I can trust in this world.

My bed understands me when I can't express myself.

My bed takes care of me when I'm in my hardest times.

My bed tells me to see the world every time and to comeback to dream on it at night.

My bed never hurts me and always tries its best to make me feel comfy and happy.

My bed is perfect for me and never shall I betray it.

My bed, if one day you read these messages, please know that I feel for you of the most sincere, idealistic and deep love possible;

Dear bed, stay with me forever, we complete each other, grow together, overcome our flaws, weaknesses and hardships together, and if the world would come to an end please know that you're the one with who I shall spend my last times with.

Put simply, I love you.

The pleasant lingering smell of rose hips,
feels almost healing,
as we tread through the garden -
together barefoot and vulnerable.

I won’t shy away from the prickly green grass,
then in the same way,
let me tickle you with my stubble as we laugh -
together joyful and crude.

One has to be careful not to lose themselves completely
to rub your intricate fingerprint away into another's skin in patterns,
because although the body feels heavy when weak kneed -
the weight of another’s soul is too much to bear alongside your own.

I won’t hold your head underwater in the fresh lake
then in the same way,
let me breathe when we lay by its side -
together entangled and safe.

The passing time made you my involuntary complex,
feels nearly daunting
as I adore this so shamelessly -
us together - balanced and in love.

There is sweetness in my life,
that is balanced by me,
in the middle way,
by the meeting of my breath,
and my heart,
but time and again,
my mind wants to take
the royal path.

Who will hold me, then,
when I fall from the heights?
And haven't I fallen before,
walking in the path of thorns,
maddened with that,
which I don't have,
and cried like a child,
in utter grief?

Why, even then,
my mind wants to
burn itself again?
Or, is it in the burning,
that it becomes beautiful?
Or, are these royal talks,
just words?

This seeker is sincere.
He wants answers,
that are within him.
May he find them.

© Manan sheel.

And it's moments like this
I'd wrap my arms around you.
You'd disappear, head against my chest.
A thousand pieces coming together.
Our eyes closed, curled together in each other's arms.
Each moment prolonged.
Held tight.
Your body against mine.
An eternity in my arms.
Total control of our philosophies.
Unconditional.
Adored.
Suddenly you'd disappear.
Not an ounce of weight could be felt.
Sometimes opening my eyes.
Finding you nice and nestled
Between the width of my shoulders

Ambitious bastions always tout
progressive plans when they're about
while within they hide and pout
from novel things that may prove out.

And while inventing goals to follow
their ancients habits hold them hollow
as in vain wary workers wallow
force fed lies and hooks to swallow.

They hunt for those who work past five,
that trudge to work, endure the drive
who will sacrifice their personal live
until ambition can't survive.

Yet if you strive, you're constant told
do not do more, do not be bold
just fill your seat, forever hold
your tongue until you're dead and cold.

To subsist we're forced to hide,
only in others can we confide,
all success pushed to the side
as managers act bona fide.

Since those of meager measure make
hope of meeting metrics fake
interloping leaders take
their toll until hard workers break.

Under your loving hands, like an infant, I rest, protected in hand.
Under the vast emptiness and dullness of the galaxy, your light shines, your robe, O so white!
SO glorious your face, your presence!

Your presence, it caresses me, with just a little bit more, I would have been crushed and would have been drowned under my own tears and would have dented the marble floor with certain and whole-hearted knees.

How marvelous is that cross...a word won't fit it.
That cross...if only words, dots, dashes, and punctuation can have more to offer. An endless murky drowning sea of words of different fonts and sizes won't quite make the mark.

You made my mouth like a sharpened sword. Ready to fight for your name, ready to stand my ground, ready to make the darkness fear and make fallen angels regret their mistakes. They already are.
ready to open hearts and minds, as you call many to you.

You make me like a polished arrow. Ready to go wherever you shoot me, ready to tear down what the devil has built. Ready to have your word, the gospel tied to me, as I fly through the spiritual realm and spread your word, the gospel. Simply the gospel. NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS.

You hid me in the shadow of your hand. You cover me. You protect me. You hide me even if it seemed like all eyes were on me. Maybe they are on you. I want to be more like you in image O LORD.  

You concealed me in your quiver, God USE me!!! IF only words quite make sounds of hunger and thirst and the cries of my spirit and my new heart to you! You polished me and I am ready.
Ready whenever you say its time to go, or then I have to stand strong. Ready whenever, wherever, however you call me.

You polished me.
I am sharpened.
I am a polished arrow and have a sharpened mouth.
"Okay LORD GOD, I am ready."