In front of the altar to a new life.  
A tear drops in this perfect petal storm.
Holding my hands tight.
You glisten ever brighter - I've been reborn.

You are so exquisite - beyond imagination.
I didn't think this day would ever come.
That day we'd be together forever.
My only one.

Whispering vows into the cedar hallows.
The broken petals fall from the trees of old.
Lining a sacred future forward.
Our sea of gold.

As I lay surrounded by only you, I continue to ask myself,"do I not have the right to say I love you?".

Subject

Shortly after our
first date I joked
Don’t make me write a poem about you.

It’s been a year and I laugh
because my poems
have become your home.

It’s been a year and
you’re kissing
someone else and
I’m just kissing people
who aren’t you.

Waking up next to you
for the last time
we knew it was and
we had to tell each other
not to cry so we could
kiss for the last time

When we broke
you said to me
I don’t want to be the subject of one of your poems.

But I warned you.

There are places in this world;
places you'll find that'll grab you right by the heart.
Shaking you they will scream,
"This is it! This is where things are as they should,
not as they could be."
If you have the fortune to find that little slice of wonder,
absorb it as a sponge does water.
Breathe it! Eat it!
Let it soak to your bones.
More importantly,
do not ever allow yourself to forget how you felt when your heart was shaken.
Do not ever forget what you learned.

Does the **** have any less a right to grow,
than the rose?
Does the moon love the sun for lending it light,
or envy it for the same?
Does the wind bear ill-will to the trees for the obstruction,
or does it thank them for the music?
Are we all in this world marching toward an end,
or back to the beginning?
These are the things that keep me awake at night.
These are the things that impede my dreams.

Never had I witnessed yin and yang,
in more tangible form.
One came in like a fire *******!
A bright flash and a bang you couldn't help but enjoy.
Then with a passion,
she'd gush in obvious pride
over the delicately crafted treasures before her.
The other blew in like the wind,
soft and mellow.
With an easy voice she spoke of her craft,
as if only natural,
a person could weave wire in such intricacy.
It was a beautiful equilibrium to behold
and something I'll always hold onto.

TO ALL POETS

Each of us is different
yet we are (bottom-line)
the same
true to self
that's what really  matters
words are the joys and tears of our heart
none can stop them--never, ever