Curled up with
little hands resting on me—

This doesn’t last forever.

I wonder what he would say
standing at the intersection of the Cosmos and 
St. Anthony

I read somewhere about how
black and white photos allow you to actually
see
the emotions in eyes
the intensity of expressions
the reality of it all.

I wonder what it’s like to not be
riddled with thoughts,
ideas,
opinions,
&
emotions
cycling round and round,
ad nauseam.

As it stands, we are Creators of a Multiverse,
so to speak, in this existence—
an existence we currently do not share.
All of our divisive tools create
possibilities and realities which multiply
ad infinitum.

Doors are closing left and right
and I’m fumbling for the
Master

I see you walking past and I lean over the line,
my chin resting in one hand with the help of a supportive “F” and my other elbow
propped up on a ‘N.’

Bricolaged
I stare in the mirror and realize it’s not the
I’s eye that stares back at me
it’s not the eye I have come to
real eye
on
that imparts what it perceives

New beginnings are marked by
winking through tearful eyes at adversity and
trusting you’ll fall headlong into
Elysian beauty.

I’m no stranger to loss.
How it rips away what is precious and leaves you
empty handed, scared, and isolated.
It’s curious how no one ever
talks about what they gain
from loss

I’m no stranger to loss.
How it rips away what is precious and leaves you
empty handed, scared, and isolated.
It’s curious how no one ever
talks about what they gain
from loss:

In the midst of my winter,
I found a road
trodden but overgrown,
winding and scenic,
a path of descent.