They look at you, knowing you, giving you the space to grow. They let you explore all the different terrains that intrigue you, all the while knowing that their home is the one you’ll return to. The focus is on the long game and the creation of a nation between your two warrior tribes—you two against the world. The story is in their eyes as they look at you knowingly and they recognize that you are thine.
Glistening blues and nude hues inspired by soft pigments easily flowing on paper forge an image in the mind, one of smooth sensuality flowing through the body sweetly. Enter atoms in creative hands and pass through spaces of darkness and light unseen to the naked eye. Inhale the aromatic fumes like a distant memory of joy returning to your atmosphere—a fog swallows you whole then lifts you up.
May we raise our sons and daughters to only speak words that they feel within. Too often life is perceived as a series of actions in a drama and so people ignore the fact that those around them are human, not paid actors. May my daughter grow up in a world where she feels free to speak or write her truths without fear of being perceived as less than. May all around her recognize her awareness of life and respect her humanity. May my son learn the importance of listening in a society where all men do is speak. Where too many men speak incalculable volumes at decibels loud enough for rock concerts, may my son grow to also listen and speak when he finds something truly worth saying. May our children reflect upon their actions and lead lives of consideration for those surrounding them so that perhaps one day hearts will mend, and souls will fill to the brim with happiness.
May these brown eyes melt in sun
Melt down to pools of gold
The treasure they seek
Hidden in this vessel’s hold.
And may they in oceans sink
Like shipwrecks close to shore
Always to be seen
And soon to become lore.
In the words of Neruda, death is like an admiral waiting in the harbor. So then, what is life like?
One day, I too, will cease to be as will all pathways leading to me. Hopefully you will immortalize me each day in your memory. Unfortunately sometimes we may have to leave, quite unwillingly.
Wisteria skies are on fire with the pretty pink and purple petals against the backdrop of red and orange sky-flames. Time shifts and rolling white foamy clouds fill a cold sky as hail and snow fall in disorderly ways. The warm liquid pours down my throat, leaving a burning sensation when all outside is freezing. My hand is held and I am wrapped in strong and safe arms. I just had the realization that the skies mirrored what I once called love.
