Here I am, in Harlem
Where I will learn my trade,
To make the world that better
For better it must be made.

And though I am torn most roughly,
From pillows and from sheets
I'd trade it all for effort
Gave to tread these streets.

My court is now in session
The spinning starts again
I'll paint a pretty scripture
Let's hope it's kinder then.

it's soaring through flaming green hills
your heart races with the curiosity of discovery
it's dancing on a secluded mountaintop
with the drunken energy of a motorino zipping.
it's the endless time spent laughing
lips tingling with wine and philosophy
furiously awaiting l'autobus
and saying basta to the pasta.
the hazelnut aroma of hot cappuccini,
and suddenly you have the bravery
to get lost alle tre in Trestevere.
it's watching sunrays part mountains and Corinthian columns
and sparkling on salty waters
and you inch toward the edges of cliffs
just to catch a glimpse.
it's the comfort of friends and Nutella
when Ryanair lands and Rome becomes Home
and life, and death, and carbs follow you.
it's the homeless and the hungry
sleeping in the strong arms of St. Peter
and disappointment and shame
consumes you.
it's sobbing when you are alone,
foreign, and strange
and sobbing when it's time to say
arrivederci
it's when you fall, your stupid heel caught between cobblestones
that you realize you're in love.

Feet down,
in the body of this Walk, I NOW AM.
One Small Step for Man,
One Giant Leap for all Eternity

Witnessing of the Miracle.
I have found the Lamb.

She has come to me.
Delivered from under the Fruited tree of the Jezibel Which
Golden Fleece of LIFE,
She is the Philosophers Stone.

Utopia
Name of the Planet NOW
Freedom's Sweet Light

Yours is the Victory of Presence
True Love in the absence of Time
Yours will last forever..
The others fade.

Free Choice. The true decision to Love.
YES.
I AM Grateful. And So It Is.
PEACE

Mondays should never be used for exams.
You get distracted
By the so many things in life that makes you want to jump out of your seat and ***** studying.

It lies, turgid.
Beneath the seedy mass of microscopy
lit fluorescent, breathing.
Bloated cellulose bricks in syrup
Conjunctive in an extracellular mess,
Ripped mesh and tiny sculpturettes
Freshly bleeding.
Chloroplastic green and iron red
slivers of nucleic endoscopy
A secret glimpse framed by my eyelashes.

Under the wooden beams,
My quivering fingers dancing on the keyboard,
Its soft grip fragile, compounded.
The sound resonating
Across the verge of the table,
Sinking slowly in a circuit,
Punching seamless letters on the screen.

The books speak to me
But I don't hear.
Its words oozing out the page,
Begging to be read

In horrid silence.

A silence so bitter and loud,
A choiring quiver of voices
Landing on each surface,
Bouncing off into the unknown, light abyss
Of the third floor.

The lights flicker,
The books remain printed.
An eyeful of piercing moments
Unhinge the flow.

My last breath
Has the scent of your hair
As I close my eyes
I catch a glimpse of your face

While my body grows cold
I gradually feel your warmth
I don't mind going to hell
Because here, I felt heaven

I have been living in what seems to me like the middle of nowhere
I have been studying the great masters of theology, literature, and philosophy.
I have been living in and out of people's lives and finding that in this I am still discovering more of myself.
(This is very far from the notion I previously held that I can only discover more of who I am through other people.0
But how? How? How?
I have been losing best friends. I have been losing independence. I have been losing ties with family.
Yet the world goes on and I go with it. I go with it to find what new seas are open to me and in doing so I am diving -- going into the deep -- and swimming into an endless abyss of wonder.
I am scared. Very scared. Terrified.
But I fear nothing.