A hermit burrows into its shell for the long haul. The long haul is everything- work, friends, entertainment, breath. Finds center amidst diameters small and wide, and focuses on that point. Internal. The rays are distilled. Winds come second hand. Emotions- stoic. The hermit is a rock to most. Sedimentary. Hard. Lifeless. The internal lights flicker with the spirit of ghosts. There is a gift a-brewing, being refined from the inside out for all to feast. What is a source without its own power? Power clings to the buttresses of the hermit's shell. Shell is the fuel that powers drive.
Crack!
The crack spreads.
Crack!
The crack divides other and self.
Crack!
The crack hemorrhages power- enough to feed a village.
Crack!
The crack becomes a gulf, floods the homes of all in range under the illusion of repurposing.

Will you change the upholstery once there's mold?

The crack is now a doorway. There is no in or out- just space.

Will you walk freely now?

a rock rolls down a hill
with all the force of gravity
loops down a spiral
hits rock bottom
and sits

why isn't the ground a trampoline
life could be a bounce house
with bounce beats and ***** shaking
all the kids outside
watching adults find glee
in falling
in being

but the rock sits
stationary
settles silent
apparently this is a low
must be artificial
while sunken and neutral
it holds no doom
contrary
it holds adventure???!?!

break out the party hats!
cake and ice cream!
do you hear the screams of adults lost in elasticity
rubber bands with no cash to stretch them

if only you could imagine
snap back and you could shoot a rock to the moon
and isn't that monumental enough
breaching new territory despite the weight
defying gravity despite its pull

have you ever died holding your breath,
waiting for something that will never come?




me either
BUT I have killed dreams
in sacrifice for 'what ifs'
prolonged disbelief in suspense of some higher yearning

before I ever understood disappointment
apathy taught me to stop reading into things
to stop adding assumptions
like context clues were definitive
I remember waiting behind windows
for a father to open doors
never realizing that silence was the answer
knocking trust down a peg
I forced self to be level- neutral
to accept the apology money
  in lieu of time
     and keep it pushing
for the dad who cried love but couldn't show it
the best way to mitigate loss
was to stop believing
to leave the subtext on read
but turn off the receipts
   the emotional investment was too taxing

I remember expecting forever
  of moments I didn't truly appreciate
never realizing that NOW
is the time to value
leaving relationships on read
is actually a sure way to disaster
    wanting to be understood
    without listening to understand
clarity hides in plain sight
waiting to be sought
but effort is a cycle of reciprocation
anything less is oxymoronic
like demanding everything from nothing

And that's the crux
now I expect nothing from everything
     the only way is up
and I'm grateful
because I can breath so much easier
releasing to the knowing unknown
so even when I die I can say reality owes me nothing
because each breath
was a dream unexpected

slippery highways
tongue traverses yellow lines
the crash is magic

And as the figs dried
   so did everything around them
a smaller harvest for the fall
a fall from grace since the spring

the roots did not know of destructive winds
  nor burning rays
   yet they shriveled all the same

how vain
  to expect one to know all
  to expect all to acquiesce to one

The perception of a thing is not necessarily it’s reality

the most valiant of giants
   walks without a care
steps without looking
          or wondering
where feet will land

head in the clouds
     thunder is but a whisper

Amidst all the cycles there is a center
  Yet concern over curves
   Around and about
    Within and without
Distorts the focus

What of a North Star without a magnet
What of a life without a purpose