“Why must your suffering cause my peace and my peace your suffering?”

I remember so little that I can’t forget enough.

Take a souvenir you don’t have to keep, Just pretend you want to remember.

For in the wild I feel the safest where the thorns of the invisible hand can not prick me.

Many times over my eyes have devoured the layers of your skin but I’ve never seen you naked.

Living in a constant paradox, begging to be held and released by gravity, to be grounded and free. But my feet pressed against the earth yearn for the clouds above my fingertips adrift whispering I don’t want to be at the mercy of gravity.

The cloak of death has favorites when its strings are being controlled by the puppeteer of hatred.

Let your memories fall into place, you don’t have to carry all of them at once.

Why are we told to be afraid to hurt? Why do we avoid, run and hide? Cover up inside with shields of armor, Our shins, and elbows made of pads of plastic; We are not made of glass and tattered bits, It’s not weakness when our strength builds us to last.

There is no sunrise as beautiful as the one where you realize you are worth a million suns.

Where do I stand when neither side recognizes me as one of them.

For time does nothing for you if you do nothing with it.

I am suffocating in the vacancy of the overflowing space, can you feel me reaching out?

Can you taste the colors your ancestors weaved into, The armors of resilience they wore; Can you taste the colors of the unpaved path before you, waiting to be colored by you?

Have you ever heard silence? How do you hear the silence? You don’t, you feel it. And they stared at the silence between them.

How can I not love you from a distance when you breathe the same way I do, Have the same needs I do?  Search for the same purpose and meaning that I do? Why must there be me over here and you over there that do not live in the same world?

They are simple creatures they see right through you and if by chance they miss you, they will make you believe you were never there.

God’s love does not protect us from suffering. God’s love protects us in the midst of suffering.

I feel everything to the bottom of its depth maybe its a gift, its probably a curse.

Toleration is good for all, or it is good for none.

Change is a stranger you have yet to know.

Because I have seen a rare kind of peace in the eyes of loners. Because I have heard whispers of battles of the accompanied.

God is not only true, but Truth itself.

Falling for superficial costs depth its entire existence.

Is it a loss that is still present? Or a presence that seems to be lost?