I choose
this kind love.
These stars in the trees
beyond the river’s glowing fog.
This heaven that slips through
the layers of my humanity.
Life
is precious
to the whispering
deep ones.

I choose
this kind love.
These stars in the trees
beyond the river’s glowing fog.
This heaven that slips through
the layers of my humanity.
Life
is precious
to the whispering
deep ones.
How beautiful,
to discover the stars
one precious night
at a time.
There is a darling softness
here in the heart.
A softness that holds my love for you
and all the times your smile
held me in safety.
I will miss you, always,
in the quiet.
My heart has grown into
so many pieces
of you.
I will always be
the divine love
that is
us.
The swell of a new wave approaches and how beautiful it feels, rising in my chest.
I see you, world, and I tell you: I need not change, though I do baffle you so.
I need not shift to suit your understanding of reality.
I am I. Not a broken shard of perfect life.
I hear them speak labels.
Labels I am beyond.
I see their eyes of confusion; confusion arises only upon expectations unmet.
Expect nothing of me and I shall be the rainbow of life I am here to be.
Expect of me a lie and I must decline.
For I am only I.
I see as only I see.
These tender nights.
This soul that whispers,
weary as can be.
Such love shines
upon the pavement of life.
Darlings of mine.
How they take this heart,
how they shatter the light,
that I might be the stars.
Do not try to wrap me
with your perfect edges.
Boxes are not for me,
the wind,
the stars that burst
through time,
through space,
through you.
I am all.
Do not limit me
with your unknowing.
But there you are, darling softness.
Keeper of my hopes, dreamer of my dreams.
How do you hold my heart, this night?
Full of dear, sweet memories.
Full of dear, dear
days and nights gone by.
There is no need to be fearful
of the ‘not enough’.
Of the
too different to fit in,
to be chosen.
You are who you are,
and you will rise as you will rise.
Take care
and wander with head held high.
As you are.
To become
you
again
and again.
I mourn
the turning of time.
Shall I clutch at the moment,
or the passing days gone by?
Or shall I be free
to stroll the fields, with you?
Free to know the wind
as an ever changing friend.