Connection 

Beggars can't be choosers
but when it comes to connection
I can't bear to settle for surface level
I want to be seen only by souls that can
understand my unique style of sin

Finding friends can be exhausting
when you feel the need to pretend
to put on a pleasing face for strangers
to push through the small talk
to taste the bittersweet fruit underneath

It used to be so effortless
falling into spaces where I belong
classrooms filled with all kinds of candidates
exceptional people swelling around me like the sea
transformation ignited by togetherness

That electric energy of engagement and laughter
has been slowly phased out of my life
leaving solitude and silence in it's wake
curiosity curtailed by fear of rejection
I shy away from all opportunities for connection

Sybil 

Fearful little feet 
following nervously behind
trembling innocence and dewey eyes
my tutor in unconditional love

Sleek and inky black
the most primal parts
of my personality personified
precious mirror to my own soul

A plume of dark smoke turned solid
manifestation of the void
gifting sweet kisses that say
fear, trust, and love can coexist

Plump imp of the universe
my heart beating outside my body
forever tethered and bound together
thank you for healing all my hollow places

Rainy Season 

Surrender to the seasons of your life
learn to sit with whatever you find within
what resides inside your childish heart
let it resonate and ring through your ribcage

The feeling of fully embodying each moment
navigating the quicksand of resistance
that binds us to what we fear most
cultivating that counterintuitive current

Can you learn to honor uncertainty and discomfort
to keep your heart open through every storm
allowing the thick, stagnant energy of ingratitude
to flow through you and be released

This life is about collecting lessons
soul of soft clay, continuous transformation
trying to capture and confine good feelings
so clever in our self-inflicted suffering

Forgetting that each moment adds up
to make a life far from what we had intended
justifying, defending, and doubling down
on the things that destroy your peace

Etch your true intentions on your heart
trace the tender grooves daily
whisper them into the air, a gentle prayer
have faith that you will find your way

Unsatisfied

My heart has been heaving sighs of discontent for days and days. Everywhere I look my energy is focused on what is lacking. I project myself into other people’s positions and convince myself happiness is beyond my reach, but not theirs. Envy, sharp and bitter vines twisting through my veins, poisons the fertile soil inside my soul. These feelings find relief through reframing, realizing I already have more than I could have ever asked for.

Picturing in the palm of one hand, this illusion of life that I’m lusting after, all the promise and perfection I’m imagining there. Then in the other palm, my own precious life, the beings I love most in this world. I contemplate a bargain with the universe that could be made, to trade what I have for these things I think would bring me happiness and spare all future suffering. Oh, the stinging swell of gratitude that rises up to resist this inconceivable option! I would easily forsake the most coveted riches and situations for the life and love I already possess. What a great comfort it is to consciously consider this fact.

This simple practice is a powerful reminder of how much love I already have inside, how much happiness is already in the life before me, if only I take the time to look. When I catch myself longing for something else and lamenting the lot I’ve gotten in life, I remember the true value of my current reality when I meditate on the ridiculous notion of exchanging it for another.

Scars 

I love my scars
I love the raised white ridges
randomly placed along my body
reminding me of where I've been
running my fingers over these imperfections
private souvenirs from my past

My favorite scar
is the one you've left
internal and invisible, etched upon my heart
a mark that remains for only me
jagged and deep, still tender to the touch
from the years I've spent tearing out the stitches

The Song 

My heart sings for small towns
not for the crumbling, faded houses
or the hollow eyes that inhabit them
but for the spaces in between humanity
the thick undergrowth of untouched hillsides
the silence that surrounds you
as you emerge at the street's abrupt end

winding roads turning to dust
as they weave through valleys
and stitch the mountains together
no turns in sight as you faithfully follow
for miles to a singular destination
in the distant country, past oceans
made of tall grasses and grazing cattle

where the open sky is unhindered
by smog and skyscrapers
and you can feel yourself shrinking
beneath the infinity of distant stars
or cradled by the buoyant brushstrokes
of soft clouds in an endless canvas of blue
swallowed up, dissolved, and made whole again all at once

I've always found safety in the subtle symphony
of places far away from people
the silent prayer of bare feet against the warm earth
sunlight filtered through gently rustling leaves
the tender cadence of countless other lives
swelling and saturating every cell of my being
bowing down in reverence to this ancient rhythm

Separation from source
is the truest form of suffering
caged inside the arrogant design of human kind
cut off from the wind and light
set aside to sit in sterile cells
tangled up in selfish isolation
eating ourselves alive

No, I'd rather wade into the cool embrace
the filthy, glistening grandeur of the river
memorize the ever changing melody
of chirping birds and tiny insects
the healing buzz of their constant vibration
lapping at the shores of my truest self
reminding me of my part in the song

The Silence We’ve Lost 

Silence is a special thing
a commodity that cannot be
boxed up in cardboard
and set on shelves for sale

Society only sees value
in the shape of dollar signs
so it's seen fit to fill 
that sacred void with noise

The saddest thing is
this absence is not even noticed by most
it feels like good fortune
to never be forced to face ourselves

We pity the people of past generations
that had to make due with their own minds
to bear the boredom of still moments
and shake hands with silence every day

We've forgotten that space is necessary
for new thoughts to be born
for inspiration to strike us
and give birth to beautiful things

Silence has become unbearable
feared above all else
A sure sign that we desperately need
to be submerged in it

Sweet Air 

Winter wipes away all memory
of the sweetness of summer air
it stops me in my tracts
when my senses are infiltrated again
with the intoxicating scent of soft petals

The cacophony of sensation
that saturates the warmer months
never fails to fill my soul
with reverence and awe
for our magnificent mother

Inspiration seeps into every pore
when the world reawakens
at my doorstep
the miracle of resurrection
witnessed once again

When all hope is nearly lost
the tender blades of grass whisper
"just give us one more day"
I fall to my knees upon it
and gratefully obey

Fresh Memory 

Crystalline structures of familiar chords 
take me on nostalgic tours
through the old forgotten caverns
of my heart's youthful years

Fresh citrus drops
that sting you with sweetness
refurbishing faded memories
until I feel transported

Through the violent veil of time
that contorts and distorts
the continuous current of energy
that is me

What harm is there
in having a snack 
of the sweet, supple story
stitched together in my soul

To allow myself to believe the fiction
that I've chosen to cherish
and buried deep beneath the bedrock
of my being

The bittersweet bite of memory
never bothers me
hot tears and catching breath
can still feel like home

Permanent pillars of my past
are supports that assure me
some things will never change
a perfect picture of stillness inside

That will not cease to create
prickles beneath my ribcage
or train me to build up a tolerance
to the days that trail behind

When I find nothing but fear before me
I can always run my fingers over
the smooth shape of those experiences
that are mine forever to carry

A natural resource for me to drink from
and subconsciously stitch together
into fresh dreams of you at night
to fill me again with gratitude and delicate devotion