The child in me asks
Will we ever find passion
She had big dreams
and was determined to aim for them.

The adult me feels sad
She doesn't know what to say
How do you explain pain,
How do you explain disappointment?

I hear him /
I see him /
I fathom him /
From afar /
Knowing that love looms over the horizon. /

He gives me the wings to soar /
Into the dreamscape /
There I find stillness, heartsease & the resplendant, radiant moonbeams /
The mellifluous musicality /
—He spirits me away./

La voce de la luce, /
La voce de la luce, /
Miramos, /
Escuchamos, /
A la voce de la luce. /

What do you /
See /
When you look at me? /
What do you /
See? /

I see a cosmos: /
I see the moon, the sun, the stars, /
A luminary, I see the trajectory /
The path of someone doubtless, /
Of someone indefatigable. /

Wombed skies, the aethers, /
Someone, something, /
So pristine, crystalline, intemerate, /
Unmatched, in formosity. /
—It's you. /

Loud and young
My voice rung
Free in its burdens
Overwhelmed in yearning

Loud and young
My voice blurred
Mixed and buried
In unsettling surroundings, unheard

Silent
Alone
Unmoving
Lost

Whisper scream
Moon for company
Burdens blur simmering
Over clawing emptiness

Slurred speech
Between few
You know
I know you

Like a poor man's stain glass art
Salvaging beauty in broken sentences
What sense would you tell me it would make
To break glass of different colour to make a singular beautiful piece
When that is all I have to work with,
Broken glass
And no glue to piece them

Your voice matters - take a stand
Share how Bitcoin makes you free
Shake the fiat shackles off
Do your part and you will see

Mining, holding, running nodes
Buying, teaching, giving too
In all of these, you spread your voice
And stand for what you know is true

Your voice matters - don’t be shy
Bitcoin changes us for good
No theft of money from the top
Increasing value - as it should

You have so many ways to share
Use your talents as you can
Your voice matters - speak aloud
To forward this great Bitcoin plan

I'm still learning
To talk about what happened
I'm still learning
That I went through a trauma
I'm still learning
That it wasn't my fault
I'm still learning
That I couldn't have done anything
I'm still learning
To admit that I'm still broken
I'm still learning
That it's okay to say it out loud
I'm still learning
That it wasn't handled right
I'm still learning
That it still affects me 13 years later
I'm still learning
That even though they told me I couldn't tell anyone, it's okay for me to tell the people I trust, or whoever the hell I want
I'm still learning
That I'm strong and brave and loved
I'm still learning
That I am not damaged goods
Just because I'm still learning
How to be a person again

such a wild thing to think.
how these thoughts,
romanticize your voice.
it’s all that i can hear,
all that i want to hear—
as if everything ever derived
from these id-driven impulses,
is to ask for only your voice.
only your voice.

do you hear that voice, my dear.
would you listen to the moon sing.
can you understand its words.
oh dear if you don't,
you just stare right into my eyes
and you'll know—the enchantment
of a confession; the reflection
you see in these eyes,
is its muse.

Did, a heart of sincerity...?
Made pure, made true...
With the soon, a vestigial anarchy
Came to these, the rue of what we fate, to irony due...

Life and a laugh
The instilled today, the tone of a voice
Given the wishes of the frank, and endearing more we hath...
The compliment of sorry eyes and sudden why's, a unity's choice?

Cope, tomorrow in league with such, a service
To fragile ideals, and the carnal low...
Seemingly mine, the inclined shrewdness of austere sigh's
Is a head at pride, a lover's lie to compel a friend to owe...?

Me, a hardier since, seclusion in a waiting worth...
Can a heightened sense of curiosity, begin here?
With the claimed sake, and kindness of silenced gain, by earn
And turn of chaste into a needy repast, is my ought's notion clear?

Waiting on the words to divine a character's politics?
Sate and uniformity in mind, for another go round
With such a treatise to sympathize with truth, that a gesture meant
Is a gesture in the fate, we knew as a careless whisper, to allow...?

A hat of composure make the day for neglect, isn't a worlds eyes drawn
Meant and imagination, to a seemly rise and flow; was distance to form the words?
Which brings us to the shade, of conscience's seldom, as if a waiting song
That has a notion to become, hungrier than me, that sees the problem of seasons early...