When was the last time you looked up?
Just tilted your head back
and took in the sky above you
through eyes unburdened by expectation?

Cloud watching and star gazing
is not only for the young.
No matter your age
the act of watching
and letting your mind wander to and fro,
creating landscapes of imagined worlds,
and exploring them from afar
will always be a peaceful undertaking.

At the end of the day
I want to dive into sleep.
None of this gently drifting off...
I'll cannonball if I can!
I'm done waiting for it to gently take me into it's arms.
It's taking way too long!

None of these metaphors are comforting
when your body refuses to cooperate,
and your brain is buzzing
louder than an angry hornet nest,
or your legs feel like kicking and dancing at 4 am.

But there's only so much you can do
when you're awake at 4 am
​and sleep hates you.

You ever have a day so full with
one action, that it overflows,
every day then fills until
it bursts, just drowning out
everything else? That's
what it feels like
when writing
is your
life.

With discovery as my fear,
I will not give myself away.
My heart and my name are my own.
Even if that means my exile.

I cling to a feeble charm now,
with discovery as my fear.
A simple cord and pendant is
all the armor I require.

I have survived this long hiding,
​what is one more day living
with discovery as my fear.
What could possibly change all that?

Finally free of social bonds,
I see that I was living a
half life. Restriction chaining me
with discovery as my fear.

Alarms are just great.
Until you throw them across
the room. Then they're trash.

How can one move with such grace?
A strength hidden beneath fluidity and skin
that seems effortless to anyone not in your place.
You've spent hours and years becoming who you are
pushing yourself, and embracing the chase
to become a living artform.
​The sound of your passing is music in space
and your movements pull at heartstrings like a violin,
​your footsteps, a rhythmic bass.

You think you're boring.
An ordinary sort.
But I can hear the magic running through your veins.

People like you
who can take an idea
the faintest glimmer of thought
and create it concretely in real ife,
how could anyone call them anything but magic?

You take time and sweat
tears and blood
and you make an idea live
an entity of art.

Whether words are your medium,
clay or fabric, pastel or stone,
you work miracles.
And you inspire me.

Never stop creating! <3

I know when most people think of poetry
they think of beautiful pastoral descriptions
or love letters.
Celebrations of our favorite parts of this world.

But as a poet,
sometimes I get tired of typing out the same old lovely letters.
Sometimes, I want to cut out my heart
and slap it wetly upon the page
watching the spurts
to see what patterns they make.

Don't get me wrong,
there's no shame in writing about love
unicorns and rainbows.
The world is full of that
and people love it.

But the darkness is just as present
even if we want to ignore it.
And there are days
where that's the only type of writing I can do.
There should be nothing wrong with that, right?
But a lot of people are afraid of those shadows.

Sometimes I write pretty words.
But other times,
the monsters inside of me grab hold
and twist the tendons of my fingers,
choreographing their own dance across keys,
and telling those stories that are painful to hear
because they show us what we spend our lives denying.

Can we just be kind to each othet?
Why is that so impossible?
The simple choice, love not hate,
would save so many souls
who think that there's no
place for their spark
in a world
painted
​black.

Many are bowed low beneath the burden of knowledge,
​nearly buried beneath that which they have always sought.

I see it in your eyes too, child.
That lust for deeper knowing,
an understanding of the world at your fingertips
and those variable realms beyond.

Do you realize the burden that comes with knowing?
​Have you seen the hollow look of a man
who has watched the past twist and burn before him
because he sought knowledge of the future?
I have.
Countless empty eyes have blankly looked back at me.

But maybe you'll be different, hmmm?
Will you find the answers that you seek,
and then have the strength to utilize them?
To change your world for the better?
I hope so.
​
Here, let us begin.