the world might end in the afternoon on an average tuesday,
anxiously re-reading a dozen messages without an answer.
when a broken photo frame becomes the last drop
and you find yourself unable to believe that superstitions are stupid
and the familiar ringing of the doorbell sounds like a death sentence.
despite the agony all there is to show is silent acceptance,
because their yesterday's sacrifice bought you another tomorrow
and you can only pray that in that moment they weren't alone.
although this emptiness inside of you feels like a death sentence,
the world ends every single day without anyone knowing.

my dear
I love you
what else is there to possibly say
you don’t need it and I can’t give it
and so I bleed
you flourish
all is right in the world
and I have my love to thank

O mother of the Saviour of the world,
     Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God Himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
     And God Himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And He that dyed and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.

The firstborn fruit of Gods inerrant seede,
     Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
     And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.

Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
     Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
     And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be donne.

I will never say
It is unfair that I am one
always sacrificing for you
whether you love me
or not, I do not
love you to receive
to change you or I leave
I love being the one
who loves you, regardless
I truly do

and If I be not willing
to lay my life down in truth
or be compelled by love
and sacrifice as I do
then please, please
walk away and tell me,
I’m not worthy of the way,
you would have
loved me too

Came I hither with all the gold possess'd,
Came I hither with all the wisdom gain'd,
Came I hither with all the truth and jest,
Beauty, health, kindness, luck, thou'd'st have complain'd
That I came hither with an underhand
Desire of something greater thus exchang'd,
Unable to conceive or understand
How one who offers free is not derang'd.

Came I hither with all the gold possess'd,
And came I bearing rubies and pearls, too,
Came I hither bearing all the rest
To thine own mortal self, still erring true;
Came I hither, and ask'd nothing, giving
All that I have, and more, and still I err,
For the Lord ask'd nothing of the living,
But sacrifice is matter of a cur.

Mistrusting as you do, with sense, I see,
Love's made not for this world, nor I for thee.

There are 12 types of joy:
simple joy
almost joy
systemic joy
Saturday joy
expressing joy
knowing joy
all joy
max joy
constant inputs of joy
single greatest joy
sacrifice or joy
the face of joy
at the periapsis of earth’s orbit.

Collect his tears in a pail
They got the right nutrients
To water the tree of freedom
Fruits to bear for the youth
But how can we collect enough
If we don't fight enough

No time to cower under beds
The tempest blows the roofs off
He looks through the little light
That pierces through the needles eye
It's the same ray of hope
That stirs him

Collect his tears
Collect some more
Better live than exist
Better expressed than suppressed

14th December 2023