Sometimes, life feels like a dead-end. Stagnant. “Where the heck is life?” you ask, numbly, sitting on the edge of your bed.
Friend, let me pick up your face with a little light and love:
Read on ❤

Sometimes, life feels like a dead-end. Stagnant. “Where the heck is life?” you ask, numbly, sitting on the edge of your bed.
Friend, let me pick up your face with a little light and love:
Read on ❤
A poem from the book “The Universe Inside Her II: A Book of Unsorted Poetic Letters”
A jealous person will always prevent you from seeing the good and beauty in yourself.
A short story fable.
This garden will always have been a blessing to me, and now I let it grow and reverently sit in its shade.
for,
to revel in something, but not ruin it, you must be reverent and respectful of the treasure it is to cherish.
And it kills me to remember you shaking your head, after you came to me in tears, and walking out that door to never come knocking again.
…
I still want to grow old with you if you’ll let me. If you’ll help me rebuild these broken pieces of this once-most-beautiful home.
Our perspective is our universe.
Where have we failed at love?
Everyone extraordinary was once incredibly boringly ordinary.
Distrust has wedged herself again between these two tortured souls. Neither knows how to fix or approach the other and this disconnect–this silence–may be deafening for a while.
Who’s the one that’s there through all?
Ask the fellow in the mirror, “How are you?” And this time, reply. Because that person will really always be there, and is sometimes all you’ve got, and they’ll listen. Open your own ears and your own heart to your own self.