Carry me once my feet give out,
When my will slips from my being and I lay frozen in life's meadow,
For my voice will silence and my thoughts will still,
I will reach serenity in your arms,
Carry me home,
Where formless is our identity and the current merges our souls.

If I could repeat this life there would be much to do,
Hearts to mend and deeds to undo,
Time spent mustering courage would transform into acts of expression,
My journal would be blank for my prose would meet your ears and not the page,
I'd share my mind's cavern with you,
And the journey would be ours to conquer,
If I could rewind and reverse time,
I'd relish a life with you.

She is a woman to marvel,
Igniting a passion that lies within she illuminates the darkness,
Crackling with aspirations and exploding exuberantly she propels into the unknown,
To face the foreign and conquer speculation,
Leaving behind a trail of glitter in glistening light,
She is but a breathtaking sparkler dazzling all in sight,
Blessed is he who gets to hold her and bask in such glory.

when I stop
and
just let the
silence
be. . .

everything
is ok:

the tattered
tarp partially
buried in
the
hillside is
ok

the broken
bough used
as a toy
by the
poor
children is
ok

the
jaggedly
chopped
tree stump
by the
parked
car is
ok

the
unevenly
placed
stairs
that force
you to
change
your gait
are
ok

the
distant
tower
with the
blinking
light
is
ok

the
solitude
among
other
mortals
is
ok

the
whelming
sense of
being
lost is
ok

the
neat
glass of
scotch
from the
isle of
skye is
ok

the
divorced
lesbian
with two
kids at
the end
of her
rope
is
ok

the
minuscule
fly that
landed
on my
forehead
in the
bathroom
this
morning
is
ok

everything
is
ok

even the
things
that
aren't

they're
ok too

The fork in the road nears as we prepare to go our separate ways,
This journey we shared in unprecedented times steadily halts,
Leaving the future to create distance among us,
A bittersweet departure lingers as I watch you take off,
Understanding it'll never be the same,
Letting go with every step you take in the opposite direction,
This is goodbye,
to the hopes we birthed,
the dreams we forged,
and the memories we shared,
this is goodbye.

He gathers tales, sings them for a pittance
Holds peasants spellbound on the brink of fright
With weird myths that bewilder, if one might
See their meaning past the poet's flagrance
But all are in awe of his strange presence
And lend their ears until it is midnight
And the stars start to shine cold, distant, bright
With an ancient sentience, in silence

Come dawn and he leaves, do not dare follow
For this man treads where no mortal can go
To the stars that sired him, he unveils
A vista of a repugnant hollow
Where above all, you hear their great bellow
It is here the Old Ones tell him their tales

The courage of your convictions
       lies dormant in veil of
          ignorance society
              has casted upon
                 your conscious.

Breaking free from confinement her roots emerge,
Cracked ceramic cascades across the fractured memories she bore,
She is growing past the bounds they placed her in,
She is defying the norms they mistaken her for,
Her overgrowth is fierce and intimidates all so.

Dealt grief - heartbreak - and trauma this woman survives,
No vessel capable of containing her spirit,
Overgrowth is her resilience that pushes past the comfort of garden beds,
The skies sing her praise as nature paves her way.

It was misguided attachment as you were broken and I was shattered.

We brought our shambles together and crafted what would have been forever.

Yet I awaken to a reality more fickle than fragments my memory can bare.

Clinging to her every breath does it restrict the flow of energy and reason,
In each passing moment the space surrounding her melts into bounds of solitary confinement.

Her thoughts aflutter begin to frenzy into a spiral,
Clouding her recognition of self,
It is a feat beyond wit and will,
Marvel at how her anxiety prevails,
But she persists still.