It is strange to both fit in everywhere and belong nowhere, to never feel completely at home outside of your own skin.

I was spun into gold ropes, silk petals and rebuilt in itI found more of Him in itAnd me in it. The wilderness Is home

I fell asleep with your head on my breastMy soul laying gracefully on your stable and loving chest

Protect your timeProtect your space and grow beautiful things thereForbid any ungrateful, thoughtless and/or unworthy toes from trampling through your garden

...the prepared meal is far more appetizing that its raw beginningsthere’s a lot of fight that goes into the happy ending

Unearthing fragile or broken parts of one’s pastIs not denying the nourishment that too existedIt is not denying the beauty nor the countless blessings that were also givenIt is simply tilling, raking, and pulling up what is dead so that it will not spread.It is making room for more light, more love, more blessings…

Unearthing fragile or broken parts of one’s past is not denying the nourishment that too existedIt is not denying the beauty nor the countless blessings that were also given...

I spoke to him in poetry And instead of mocking a tongue he couldn’t understand he took time to learn my language

It is strange to both fit in everywhere and belong nowhere, to never feel completely at home outside of your own skin

...I fell asleep and had a dream that a king was liquidated by a group of kind faces....