I will always wait for you.
I will be sitting on the off-white wooden chair in my off-yellow painted room staring at my off-color smartphone screen while I wait for your reply to a message I sent you fifteen minutes ago.


I will always wait for you.
I will still be standing by the table we sit at with all our friends at lunch 
twenty seconds after the bell has rung while you zip up your backpack
then walk with me towards class.


I will always wait for you.
I will be bending over the road, craning my neck to look for the garish yellow bus 
and your silhouette trudging up the hill but if I don’t see you in the next two minutes
slowly meandering down to look for you will be my next job.


I will always wait for you.
I will run over when I see your face all ******, body barely moving
lying on the road, then all of a sudden taken away I’ll completely forget today’s science test and 
run as hard as I can towards the hospital.


I will always wait for you.
I will remember that it has been ten years today and the feel tall grass tickling my ankles as I walk,
bowing their heads in sorrow. I’ll bring you a sunflower, the first one grown at the new house, then
sit beside your weather-worn stone 
and wait.

There was an old legendary myth about a Dear Little Sprout
One who watches over mortals since The Creation up until throughout
Lurking from within numerous gardens as we all turnabout
Protecting those he deems good despite most mortals having such doubt

Dear Little Sprout can tell who's good and evil
Even acknowledging those who he deems neutral
Guiding Good and Punishing Evil as individuals
Giving advice for Neutral and hearing out their personal visual

Little did they know that the Dear Little Sprout has a big secret
One that he considers as the most deepest
That being he's more than just a symbolic fairy tale
But rather he's a Young Nature God with a hopeful prevail

He took the form a green-haired teenage boy
Surrounded by various flowers that's filled with so much joy
Roses, Daisies, Sunflowers, and many more he enjoys
The Dear Little Sprout, Herb, is always seen with such adorable poise

Sweet Little Herb shall spread happiness and love
For the sake of guiding and protecting everyone like a kind dove
Holding the Light of Creation in the form of the flower
With his love from those he's close to fills him with passionate power

Together we bring love like the roses in the garden
As we shine on similar to the daisies that was pardoned
We shall be as strong as the sunflowers from the proverb
The Dear Little Sprout, Our Sweet Little Herb

The sunshine melts in from the dark.
The summer sunflowers start their  morning yellow glow.
From the dark of nights despair and suffering.
The light of questioning wakes up,
I begin to ask why the pain?

Did I, or do I have the capacity to be optimistic of my will? Over matters of the past?

Shame, denial, self- soothing, trying to escape emotional pain through all varieties of addictive responses to life.

Understanding this new target for my heart, mind, and body gives me optimism of the will while
knowing
there will always be suffering.

I ask myself, what is my capacity? As the light rises in the morning I feel more air to breathe in.
Aware of the air inside of me whether in dark or light, carries some vessel of hope
to help ward off the strength of suffering.

I am not the wave. I am the ocean. The womb. Conceptualize
the possibilities in this morning dry landscape,
before abandonment. Conceptualize having what you need. Ease and compassion enters. Possibilities move through with ease and healing is within reach.

The capacity to heal needs warmth like the morning globe of light.

the desire to unwrap your ego, imagination, and ingenuity
drives me to heights I have not seen.
as I can't look at the ground when I search for you, but always looking up high above me.
you are a flower on a hill.
a tall sunflower, always reaching to the sun and its stars.
sunflowers don't look down away from its sun,
for looking down destroys their shine.
it is why you do not see me, looking up at you while you look to the sky

I admire the Sunflower
Who faces that Flaming Star
And grows despite the burning
Who stands tall amongst the weeds
Radiating light
Even in the harshest rains

I am turning blue
as the days go by,
and soon I will start to fade

But before I do,
I wish to write about all the
shades of colors I used to be

How I turned bright yellow when
I saw her face every morning,
as a sunflower turns lovingly
to worship the burning sun

Alas, I am no longer vibrant and alive
The morning sun blinds me,
and your face only brings me pain