Stroll with me under the trees
to where the old road bends,
at the hanging sycamores
then walk away
beyond my sight
for I cannot follow
do not turn back,
you have many miles to go
and new companions to meet
I will wait here, in the shade
tired feet need to rest
visit me now and again
when the leaves fall
but only in memory
walk on

Surely I’d ask; that do the stars not play witness to a love’s beauty:
the belief in  the power of love that runs deep, like the air
we rely on to survive.

It feels like a faith in the unseen forces that sustain us; we have faith in our connections— a testament to the unwavering trust we have, even when faced with the unknown.

Oh, how each passing day can either divide or bring us much closer; seemingly creating a somewhat perfect balance between us—  two halves of a whole, each complementing the other in the ways no else can.

Seems to be a task; navigating through the seasons of every new found relationship; the weight of both parties’ mistakes, all serves as a reminder of the lessons we’ve learnt. Or rather the reminder of our human side. For our present self in thought, faces the future with sometimes a renewed sense of hope, and a determination to cherish and protect that we’ve now built.  

Brick by brick; I lay the depth of my soul, as I yearn for that deeper understanding of the purpose behind any love. — Searching for meaning and clarity, so too, seeking for guidance from a higher power.

Still, I must quarrel with myself.

For the seconds you’d spend with a lover, are as fleeting as a shooting star across the night sky; effortlessly slipping away— quietly turning into the short minutes we try to weave together in the hopes of making it the story of our lives.

Sigh, another love lived, serves as another love that will eventually leave, — and so, another chapter in the story of one’s life.

Mother earth, oh mother earth; may I cherish
these precious moments of such an outstanding woman
— in these delicate grains of sand slipping through an eye’s hourglass.
For all will pass by as quickly as the gentle whisper, but the love of a
mother is undying, in all its outspoken words in these countless days.

Even as time dances forward, I fervently hope
that through it all, my dearest mother, shall I always
remember your love, joy, and peace, withstanding the test
of these countless days.

Carelessly putting your smile on display, as the portrait
of constantly looking towards brighter days.
A mother’s radiant happiness, becomes the focal point,
brightening up even the darkest corners of these countless days.

For if I could express all the thankfulness, I have of you
each day, it would all be countless in these countless days.
Happy Mother’s Day.

If I  had a box of wishes
Of dreams and secrets
I’d stow it away, safe.
For keepsakes.
Stretch the seconds endlessly
Those that held you and me.
Extending time to infinity.
I would stash the words
That you made true.
The box of wishes,
Would have the whispers,
The touches, glances
Kisses you stole,
Your all-consuming love
Took me myself as a whole.
Moments that we owned.
Locked in a space.
Little did I know.
The box of wishes
Perforates time.
It reeks of nothing.
And leaves behind
painful memories.

i wish i knew what the birds sang of
then maybe I could listen to music about more than heartache and the grief that accompanies.
are there any bards left in the world
who could tell me of the tragedies
the otters went through
before they learned to hold hands when sleeping?
so that I may avoid drifting apart from my loved ones, too.
where can I find the proud redwoods
who will tell me what the world was like when they were saplings,
and the lily pads in the ponds, who didn’t have time to worry about trivial things
such as taxes and eternal damnation.
i am so hungry for love, life, knowledge.
does the world today only serve watered down versions of that? or is it only me who feels so starved.
what trade school exists that can teach me the skills I need to know how  
to walk into a room and make it more inviting
to radiate the warmth of several suns
to properly clean and disinfect the baggage of those i love?
because every year the rain comes down harder
and everyone knows how the melancholy grows faster than the mold

What I admire the most in you,
What I celebrate utmost about you,
Is your embodiment of freedom.

Catch a word in service
Secrets of vows, autonomy
Add seldom, for a world's meant gird
See the rainbow, in the sky, want need

Wasn't never...?
Solitude in the audacity
Of a sun's ray, a rancor
For a lived same, that said affinity?

Simple nativity
Honor and homage
With a kiss, stomached liberty
Has come and gone, with silences wages

Grown to the point
Poise is an outward favor
Lime, flowers, and the winds winding joy
Has the time, to understand a wishes flavor

Soap, with your name, on it
Hadding the excess, the language
Of superiority, is worth the wit?
Like lips of creation, heiring works of times entourage...