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.
I will always be
the divine love
that is
us.
It is a softness that wanders the fields with me.
Everywhere I go, it is there, sending me off on my uncertain way.
Sometimes, I feel like a small bird, left to battle the raging storms of life.
I do not fight this softness. I only seek to know it well (though sometimes I wish it were a tiger, fierce and free.)
It is me and I am it, this softness of heart.
Let it become.
I am a child of the wind.
My bare skin knows the beauty of this life, and yet, within these soft walls, I am bare.
How heavy it is to hold this uncertain hand of mine.
Sometimes.
There she was.
She had always been there
beneath the rubble of crumbling
life.
How sweetly the sun did shine
upon her remembrance.
It is the depths that call me here.
It is the silence
and the bells
of yesterdays wish.
Let there be now.
Let there be this walk alone
in the gentle woods.
And I will quietly be
as I am.
Yes, I will quietly be.
How my soul asks to be held.
How she breathes
the cotton thoughts of yesterday
through the trees
as she remembers.
Do not look at my face
and tell me
I am beautiful.
Do not look at my skin
and see your hands
upon my life.
Look at me.
Look at me.
I am here.
I have always
always
been here.
I open my heart
and close my eyes.
And I am just me.
Just me
in this silent night.
Let me be empty.