she was a burning fire
but he failed to see the flames in her eyes
and now he is struggling to relight the ashes
together with the flames the feelings faded

Pure and Holy , You are Life and I want to Follow You.
There is None , that Holds My Heart Like You do Lord.
If I was to Live an Million years , You still be My  God.
If I was to Die tomorrow , You still would hold my Heart.
If I lost everything, and was crush with everlasting Pain.
If I was drop From the Sears tower , then told I was doomed.
To spend My life in bed, with no chance of walking anymore.
If I was told, that I would die next week an terrible death.
Still You O Beautiful Precious Lord I would have none other.
For You still are the Only One that is Worthy enough to be My God.
For it is You that Gives Life and it is You that Gives Death as well.
Only You are Worthy enough for Me to Drop to My knees in Worship.

Love is a universal language
A language that cuts across all human races
A language craved for by all ages;
from babies to the aged

It's better understood when felt than heard
Its dictionary is the heart
If spoken, it keeps people in unison
But sadly...
It appears not to be people's language of choice

Life and Time
are an illusion
only in the minds
of we humans.
All other living
things on this Earth,
pay to either, not the
slightest attention.

I Love You All, with the Love of the Lord too.
I Love You All, with the very heart of Jesus.
I Love You All, For Everyone of You are Special.
I Love You All, for Each of You are Awesome too.
I Love You All, with a Truly unconditionally Love.
I Love You All. and know this Friend You are Amazing.
I Love You All, and I shall always keep You in Prayer.
I Love You All, For You each really are very Special.
I Love You All, and Jesus Loves You very much as well.

lately,
my heart
has been louder
even in echo than my head and
i am here
trying to navigate the oceans between
too much and not
enough.

looking ever-closer to where i think
the peaks of mountains
can be measured between fingertips;
measured between dividers;
backed by a steady needle’s weight.

a sea claimed Bering
through a marshy coastline
lit only by oil and torch -
where buoyancy can balance
treacherous watery routes and  
rough, shaky hands can trace the  
pulling of sails through knots
towards the exhaling light of an imminent shore.

though i am unsure of the differences between finger-lengths,
am i holding back
because i cannot accurately predict
the pulls of the moon;
the swells of tides;
the seasons of rough storms?

perhaps even the spark of embers against my heaving backbone -
and what of the humming gears of sentience
in my chest?

am i holding back because
what i lay in permanence always meets
a spray of waves?
the crash of undercurrents against the breath leaving
your lips? -

currents that unapologetically meet
the rise of the earth and the
curve of your back
forcing the Weems
to stretch for topography that maybe even my knees cannot lock against.

go down with the ship,
i will swallow the grasp reflex that builds
in my throat and in my palms.

a million times over i will meet the breaking of every tensile structure in my body
if it means catching your swell.

and like the greek merchant’s ship cast deep into the dead sea’s belly,
i will be overcome with every ounce of your pressure
even if every time
i am fated to lose the rise and fall of my lungs to salt water;
to a watery grave;
to knit sheets and a sailor’s prayer;
a promise of ever-lasting life.