Thank You

Thank you for lifting my soul each time I wasn’t strong enough to lift it on my own.

Thank you for being divine when my humanity kept me from breathing.

Your mahogany pigment, sweet aroma and magnetic consciousness won’t let me leave you alone.

Thank you.

For touching the core of me with such little effort.

I love you, deeply.

And you love me the same.

Maybe more.

I look forward to finding out who you are.



Tell me where you are right now,

I promise I’ll hop on the first thought smoking,

Out of this solar system,

Past those constellations that tease me,

Where we first met,

I think I remember the way,

But if you could just sing to my heart again so that it jogs my memory,

And so that I don’t get lost while I find my way for the millionth time,

Back to you,

Back to us,

Back to God,




I’ve spent the last few evenings trying to understand whether or not you’re real.

Because, if you’re not then I need this cruel joke of a pleasant dream to end as soon as possible.

The oceanic depths of my own heart are too scary for me to explore without someone to come with me.

I’ve never been down there.

And I’m really afraid to let you come, even if you asked.

It could either be euphoric, or horrific.

Massively extravagant, or cold and murky—like caves that have long been abandoned by summertime kisses from a star that happens to be kind enough to allow us all to feel its tangible presence on a daily basis.

The closer you come, the faster I want to run away from you.

You remind me of everything that I don’t think I’ve even experienced yet.

I can’t run from you.

Because, I can’t run from me.

for both of us

late evenings transform themselves,

into early mornings without me noticing,

like vapors of water taking flight into heaven,

and leaving me here alone,


wondering if the hands that crafted the souls of men,

will speak to you on my behalf,

and tell you that my intentions are good,

and desires are pure,

and interest is peaked,

but that i’m also afraid—

afraid that you could be it for me,

and that if that’s true,

then i’m already frightened of losing what i don’t technically,

have just yet in a manifested sense,

but truthfully—we’ve belonged to one another, forever—

i recognize that i deserve you,

i’m just aware that i’m not ready for you,

and i guess i’m a little nervous that you’ll recognize it too,

no; you didn’t arrive too early,

i just didn’t prepare properly while men slept,

and ants worked—according to the wise parable,

so please don’t be angry with me,

for condensing the last 3 decades into 12 months,

and please stay,

your patience is far too much for me to ask of you,

but i’m asking,

and praying that He tells you that i’m worth the unfairness,

of my request—

please stay,

please, please stay,

for both of us.

i saw a sketch

last night i saw a sketch,

it was a woman,

and her womb consisted of stars and planets,

i was humbled,

by the artistry itself as well as the concept,

this woman,

was exactly what she depicted,

a bright and shimmering idea in the mental womb of the woman who thought to sketch her,

and we are no different,

all of us—with worlds and galaxies swirling, churning and burning within our minds and souls,

eternity after eternity,

brightly piercing the silence and darkness within our bowels,

our wombs,






within us,

daring us to release it every moment,

pleading with us to allow it a brief glimpse into the world of open eyes and weary hearts,

promising to devour and consume us from the inside out if we dare believe that a single sun would not envelope and purge us into nothingness if we were to ever get too close,

yet, we contain billions of them,

deep inside,

do you feel them?

let them out,




Chocolate Rose

Taciturn and full of wonder,

Seeking for all things beautiful,

And finding most of them within her own grasp,

Wondering if the world can offer what imagination and hope share freely,

Listening for any sign of life,

In a thought that gasps for air with every inhale of purpose she takes,

And yes is the answer to every question of freedom,

Because good things are promised,

And greater things will be received.

May it all align

I don’t want to be afraid anymore, of what could be, but likely never will. The worst things that I can imagine often flood parts of my mind that I’ve kept hidden quite well, unfortunately.




I don’t want to be overly anxious about deferred dreams suddenly budding in open fields of delusion—and then cast my gaze downward in disappointment when I realize—that my core and truth were actually in a distant pasture.




I don’t want to race time anymore because it’s too fast for me—its legs are stronger, and its arms are so much swifter than mine. I stare at analog time-keepers in amazement; ten years seems like just seconds ago. How’d you do it so quickly?




I know that my mistakes and poor decisions are mountains that I scale in my sleep and hike back down slowly when I wake up—daily, but I’ve grown weary from the constant walking.




I want to finally rest, and appreciate the journey as well as the view from where I sit. Rest.




May it all align, in its proper time. 🕚💛