the hardest
part of
letting someone
you love
go is
making yourself
stay away

our heads have been on fire for some decades and a half
and every kind of heat, I think, has burned upon our backs
with lacerated bodies let us come to make amends
to douse the flames with water there may never be again
may time be in our favor, grant us only just enough
to walk away a blueprint many brothers colored up
a city can be drawn you know, but compromised as well
if people living in it look for emptiness to sell
our sisters bore the weight of both the first and second drafts
but bluer than their bruises be a selflessness intact
and maybe we are bleeding, maybe soaking up the blood
let everyone examine what the heart is telling us

The crescent moon be my perch.
        A bough from which I extend my arm.
Careful fingers grasp my brush...
And with it I shall fill the void
with the universe.                

               The crescent moon be my hammock.
Upon which I lean fully into,
to seek restful recluse.                
Should my body start to buckle...
        From the heavy hopes of wistful eyes.

   The crescent moon be my anchor.
From which I draw                
my inspiration and strength.
                   She would cradle and sway me gentle...
      When wilting hearts spill unto me
the callous wiles of the world.    

The crescent moon be my well.        
A fount through which my palette        
remains full with an                                 
abundant array of silvery white.        

Just so...                                 
I could conjure for others,
       what their hearts so desire.

Just so...                      
I could grant them       
             needed solace and tranquillity.

Just so...                 
                          I could infinitely paint for them
the stars...