A black and white world doesn't suit me
  I have a visceral response to generalizations
  that serve to minimize, demonize, marginalize

Neither can I accept an existence sheltered in grey
  restrictively deliberating in the narrow space
  between cautious optimism and healthy skepticism

The spectrum of possibility is infinite
  when seen with an open mind and giving heart
  at the risk of discovering beauty

Slumbered scratching into a bedside notebook
   lying in darkness under a thick blanket of revelation
Afraid that lamplight may blind these 3am eyes
   to the dim, wispy glow of mystical comprehension

Trusting that valued mysteries will later be deciphered
   from this barely legible scrawl of the night
Refusing to squander such moments of divine lucidity
   captured in a poetic hand written outside the lines

Reluctant to wait until morning lest the light of day
   exposes a tenuous relationship to reality
Causing rays of enlightenment to glance off its surface
   in beams of obscure and superficial logic

Tangential truths
   scribbled in the dark

She will lose herself in a book
and find herself in poetry

She thinks that religion is a sacrilege
and that long showers are sacred

She makes love when she's tired
and never tires of making love

She is irreverent in her humor
and pious in her gravity

She is diligent in completing her work
and ambitious of her quest for leisure

She is the personification of romanticism
and the embodiment of compassion

She exists harmoniously in my mind

I don't know much,
but I can tell you what "whole" looks like.
I've seen it stumble forward
with weary eyes and tired hands.
Come close,
I will hand you a mirror
and tell you to look carefully.
Can you not hear the galaxies
beneath your skin?
They paint in whispers
that even oceans cannot grasp.
I know it took a hurricane and two floods,
but there is soil in your ribcage;
your scars told me so.
Don't mind them though,
they're just reminders
that you love harder than anyone else.
I know you might feel hollow,
but there is a reason your heart
has lofted ceilings.
Never forget how you fought
for all that space.
Look carefully.
These gray skies inside your lungs
are simply a canvas,
and you rain so beautifully.
Oh darling,
you rain so beautifully.

But he is imprinted,
upon my heart stings,
and they sound,
the most beautiful melody.
                                             A sad song,
I would never wish to forget.

She waits for you,
Under a blossom tree,
Nestled in the furthest corner,
Of her floral mind.

She waits for you,
Throughout the winter,
And let's the cold,
Seek shelter within her icy veins,
Rooting her limbs to the frozen earth.

She waits for you,
As the rain falls through the wilting leaves,
And is thankful that she,
Is not the only tearful heart.

She waits for you,
Even when the storm grows violent,
And she grows fearful,
That the wind will break her fragile bones,
And tear down her vacant foundations.

She waits for you,
In the summer warmth.

She's waiting for the flowers.

*but they will cease to bloom