I see you in the quiet hours,

In dreams that speak of endless power.

A love unbound by time or place,

Written in stars, etched in grace.

We are meant to grow together,

Roots entwined, despite the weather.

Not torn apart by winds of doubt,

But nourished by the love we sprout.

This time apart has fanned the flame,

A fire that burns stronger, completely untamed.

Distance can’t dim what’s meant to be,

It only sharpens the pull of destiny.

I know the weight you carry inside,

The battles you face, the tears you hide.

Depression whispers lies in your ear,

Telling you love is something to fear.

You leave our connection, return to her;
Caught in a cycle of what feels safer.

But I know this is self-sabotage’s call,

Because what we have feels too strong, too raw.

The unknown is scary—I understand too,

For I’ve also feared what’s too good, too true.

Your choice to leave was meant to ignite
growth in us both; a guiding light.

We were meant to heal and grow apart,

So we could come back stronger in heart.

I see the work you’ve done to reflect,

To grow, to change, to self-correct.

Be proud of all the steps you’ve made,

For each one brings light to the path you’ve laid.

No one is perfect—I’ll never judge

Your thoughts, your choices, your hesitant nudge.

To me, you are perfect the way you are,

A soul aligned with mine; a guiding star.

All I want is to help you achieve
the fullest potential I know you’ll receive.

Divine timing whispers, "Wait, be still"
;
The universe aligns when we let go of will.
Each worry dissolves in the present’s embrace;
A sacred pause, a slower pace.

You are my mirror, reflecting truth;
A bond that deepens and uncovers youth.
Every moment apart, a lesson learned;

Every tear shed, a fire that burned.

I no longer beg the stars to align.

I trust the rhythm, the grand design.

Our paths converge when hearts are clear;

Love flows freely when freed from fear.

So I release the weight of the need to control.
I trust the universe to make us whole.

In divine timing, we will reunite;
Our souls forever drawn to the light.

For we are meant, I know it’s true;

To find each other, to start anew.

Hand in hand, through joy and strife;

Growing together, a soulmate life.

I can’t help but notice
Some twinkle in your eye;
Your thoughts now are subtle,
But I’ll see through, by and by.

I know how you’ll act
Once you get the right chance.
You'll do just as expected--
And with fate you will dance.

The dead woman’s cat in the furrows of the garden
does not let herself be picked up
although hungry and thin after five days
with the dead woman and a night in the rain.
It has gone to join the other feral cats
among the junk behind the house. To be outrageously
******. On my way to work I try to entice it
with false friendship, guilt that the dead woman is dead.

On my way home I buy a can of cat food
but can’t find the cat. I let her go
to her fate. Later that night I try again
but there’s a tom waiting in her place.

Maybe I could have saved her if I’d known
her husband overdosed last week. Just maybe,
no more.
I ask the neighbors what happened to the kid.
The kid lives with her grandparents, they just used her for welfare.

I used to say
Somebody dies every day, it’s normal.
Walking through a residential part of town
I frightened a cat into the street
where it was hit by a car.
The car drove on and the cat jumped
high in the air over and over to escape its pain.
I caught the cat and held it at the side of the road until it died
and left it in high grass behind a house, sorry I couldn’t do more.
A young boy on a bicycle stood nearby the whole time
and rode silently away.

Maybe art is exposing my soul,
Leaving it raw and vulnerable under
The gazes of all those
Who wander in the museum of my
Heart.

Maybe art is an exercise in understanding,
Where we strain to make sense of
Darkness we’ve never seen the depths of,
Or light that we long to be warmed by
But can’t quite reach.

Maybe art is a meeting of kindred spirits;
An understanding that you were never alone,
Even when you were drowning and no one
Could hear you scream.
Far away, your words echoed, and in
The mind of another lost soul,
They found their place on the page.

As I have found myself here again while looking for God
how strange I had to of step
be one there have my fall considered out of a pocket
what seemed well until it
looked as of me that left of
mine to be: I am asking God
what is there now to be
except nights the forests of
steps done below zero by fieldwalks be too cold to sleep
by wind kept of reminded
to be looking for myself.

Searching the world for God
in a man,

as man in the sun
is

Like the gentle rain over your field

waking you up after
the long and lonely jorney,

where my roots
are, there was my tree
planted in the sun,

blooming and fruitful, dreaming

a life of a man in love
as lived for a woman so grew
as a branch that dream
a new, on the tree, into one.

Tell valkyries as told have done
For sake of a dear guest to take heart and give way to dress in their finest cloths and comb their hair hundred times.

Tell valkyries as told i had i did since question of manner and luck my fortune keep a candle in the window lid for a traveler dear coming from a very far.

Tell valkyries to honor a name greet and welcome like a brother like home as near to heart of dom scent a bed by tulips open new barels of wine.

Tell valkyries to mind the word be few and name by mountains called an old friend introduced voice recognized remembered to dont mistake with the fools.

Tell valkyries to take a bath in water of eternal youth and beauty and to dont be late for the feast of love over death do  decorate windows for victory!

We won! Gracefully.

What lovers call romance
Whatever loves to care
Enough to hide at day
Till the night to pretend.

Too little and too late
Hearts done hesitate
Hundred lies in deads
It died still had to bare.

Much to killers a grace
To no suprise to suspect
Man in no mans land
Far the heaven to stray.

For once in life dealt
And to have to offer
Trust pays not laugh
Fair like men no less.

Fathers to be to have
love in heart mistaken
The way fooled many
More made to be a man.

Honey to cross a finger
By a monk on forehead
And tore piece of bread
Meanwhile weeping i ate.

Of love lovers are made
Nights sleep not to have
"Suits me well to suffer"
How the poor mans prays.

The path of life I once beheld,
Until I agreed to be born into this world,
I knew the reason without a doubt—
You, destined to be my mother.

In a world of right and wrong, painted gray,
Your color shines as white to me
In another life with or without choice,
I choose you.