believed much in astrology
but, I swear,
when I read the constellations on her skin,
I saw love,
not burning blind as the sun,
but as a
consuming,
breathless,
diamond encrusted galaxy.
And the world will continue to bleed
until one thing is understood:
Beauty is not an outer expression
but an inner feeling
and love is not an inner feeling
but an outer expression.
There is no greater battle
than
choosing to abstain from war.
The world curses a sensitive soul
knowing not whose shoulders it rests upon.
With the sea storming in her eyes,
freckles drowning beneath salted waves,
she drew a smile on her hand
and covered quivering lips,
and the world saw nothing but light.
For she was a lighthouse
and though she be tired,
her stone walls chipped,
she stood tall for those she loved,
those fighting thunder, winds and waves
with fists and screams and suffocating hearts.
Take heart, young one,
as you transform from cub to lion.
It's a difficult path,
and though we've all made the journey before,
there's still no guide on how to grow up.
You simply, do.
And you've heard how hard it can be,
the heartache at the tail of wisdom,
but no one ever mentions that feeling,
that inevitable, consuming feeling,
that, somehow, you're not doing it right.
The most natural process of life,
to simply grow into adulthood,
and you feel you just can't quite get it.
No one tells you that,
that sudden, frightening understanding of your own lostness,
is perfectly normal.
So I will.
You're doing all right. Chin up.
After all, the purpose of rowing up is
not to become an adult.
The purpose of growing up is to take each experience
and us them as tools
to shape yourself into the exact person
you desire to be.
I must have been born without skin
for all the energy of the universe
has made home in my heart.
I am a mess of thick, tangled emotion.
My spirit must be as restless as the wind,
for it longs to crash through the cages of my ribs
and melt into the air waves.
To sing with the songbirds.
To shout with thunder.
The earth and its roots shame me
but I wasn't born to conform;
a rain drop stripped of independence,
forced into oneness with the sea.
I crave the fearful, uncontrollable, unstable
atmosphere within the clouds.
I guess my heart knows not my lack of wings,
or perhaps we are all to concerned
with what's in front of our face
to notice the wings beneath our skin.
There are those whose soul shine so bright
rays of hope and joy alight their skin.
A traveling lantern for lost wanderers.
A single moonbeam amid a galaxy of black.
Some are simply born aglow.
Some are simply stained with stardust.
Reckless.
Fearless.
Thirsty for the earth.
Unstoppable.
Unbreakable.
Without roots.
Ageless adventurer.
Timeless traveler.
A spirit that need nothing but to run.
She was the wind
and I dared not tame her.
Dance below starlight.
Dream beneath moonbeams.
Some run from fire
but she craved the flame.
To be engulfed by a cloak
of power and heat.
To be marked by the burns
that whisper stories of her passion.
In each pair of eyes she sought wildfire
knowing her soul was but a wick
waiting to be lit.
It wasn't the red of blood that sustained her
but the red of passion.
And when she filled my veins with her love,
she gave my heart a reason to beat.
Here's to you.
You who see the gold within.
Who believes in a beautiful world.
You who tell the truth
and still expect people to be good.
Here's to you
who refuse to harden,
who refuse to”be realistic”.
The world labels you a fool
and you accept the title graciously,
holding a bleeding heart in your hand,
a smile upon a face scarred by tears.
You who are a constant mess of
love and pain.
You who carries the world.
Here's to you.
You are magic.
Did you know?
The sun lives within you.
Rays of warmth spray from you fingertips
and shoot out the ends of your hair.
Your eyes are aflame,
two fireballs of love for a world
drunk on the notion of another's kiss.
But you, dear one,
you are your own sun
and you need not the warmth of a kiss.
You are bright and full and beautiful.
You are the sun and you shine, perfectly, happily, free.
There came a point where the seeds of pain
became too much.
So I placed steel bars around my heart
and installed two separate locks for security,
one of indifference,
one of pride.
Now I am too afraid to unlock these gates
for fear of what these seeds
have grown to be.
So I spend my time fighting back
against the floodgates of my soul.
Careful never to feel too much.
Careful never to know myself too well
for fear of discovering who I truly am.
For fear that I am not the person
I pretend to be.
Greatness is not found in the
victories, the championships, the success.
Greatness is found, instead,
within the tears and the pain,
within each moment you face
the temptation of giving up
and say,
not today.
You can't protect a flame by covering it up.
Be brave enough to show the fire in you,
and strong enough to keep it alive.
Blood dripped from her lips
so sharp were the words she spewed.
I am a lost one.
I don't know my path.
I don't know my purpose.
AS I stumble though my days
I see other lost ones as well.
There are quite a few of us, I think.
And perhaps, we are not as lost as we think.
Perhaps home has always been,
and always will be,
a community of chaos
drunk on the idea of normality.
Her laugh was a song,
a melody, a chime, a ring of bells
that gave sense to my lyrics.
She covered her mouth.
Cheeks of cherry,
eyes a sliver of moon.
Oh, darling,
your laugh creates in me
a waltz of butterflie
s.
I wished upon the stars and
they handed me their moon.
You awoke the storms within
and inspired waves of emotion
I thought long dried.
For as long as they were lovers,
the sun still blushed every time
he kissed the sea.
I know how he must feel
to love something
so wild, so beautiful.
So free.
It is a foolish artist who paints in black
and blames the canvas for its darkness.
You told me things.
Personal things.
You came to me with words
naked, raw, intimate.
We spend the night,
hand in hand,
our lips sharing stories,
our souls making love.
And she wondered
just how as she supposed to decide what to do with her life
when she couldn't even decide on breakfast.
When he held me, I could feel it.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
He was a time bomb
yet I wore him like a life jacket.
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