today is the day of knocking,
there are a lot of things i’m uncertain of. i see you in everything; the silence and magnolias, clouds and bare trees —the fragile body of the ones i love. . that much is true.
no other constant exists, and for me—i admit i need understanding. the ability to unfurl my fingers—a fist—to relinquish freely all the things that were .
would you help me grow a garden? —patient and gentle. together, of every type of flower;
indulgent and decadent, the kind of beauty that makes want to bite, sink teeth into the very root of the root. i want to be wholly in and of this earth. sometimes the bark of the tree covered in rain; sometimes i want the leaves. drink the snow stream run off—distilled purity
you’ve collected me on a cold surface; now i’ll materialize—water or rain
become more real than a ghost, i’ll turn tangible. if i let go
of the vapor, so too the ability to fly
as a community condenses, we press closer together. everything’s a trade. closer together we press, and less mobility we have at our disposal. it seems truer and truer there is no way to have , but that’s what i want. loving, anything is possible?
but as i grow, i know. there are things we can’t defy. i cried. i decided i would at least try, and you saw me laugh in the face of a friend who swore i’d have to choose. i’ll always try to bake and eat it too.
would you if i asked you? already the —you could be next on the list,
i know desire—the will to create beautiful, delicate things; that's why makes my ears ring. we both know a body begins with a dark canvas—we only receive the shift of dawn after we bury the night. , and it is so.
as change essential grounds for beauty, the peak of beauty occurs at the height of transformation. consider the seasons between the bookends, consider the pages that lead us towards the last. consider the or the dove.
if you were here, i'd show you what i've learned:
how to brew tea & how to carry warm water.
i continue asking myself the same question, in the same order:
why, how, and? and? and? next? yes, then?
i’m trying to ask a more beautiful question. i’m looking for the entry point; it was always a seat at the table, always a sheet of paper, always a colored pen. always looking to begin again. sometimes, it’s easier to begin than to continue—i often find whatever i’m currently doing to be the most challenging thing. i’m ready to breathe again. i’m ready to ease again.
i’m for clarity. i’m on the lookout for the way forward. i want to
but i’m still searching for trust. i know that i’m able to follow and listen closely to
, listen always.
in the disease of expansion, we take solace in the blossom.
i’m not yet prepared for music. or i wasn’t ready
i’ve been approaching the foot of the hill. so much i thought i was able to risk, without even holding it in my palms
never simple never straight— along this path. express gratitude. i will humbly follow through the snowfall
each step an act of reverence, a cultivation of courage. garden inside of me. an eye for detail so keen allows you to attend to the smallest parts of the smallest creatures. develop such acute perception, too, so i might continue,
even if that means taking steps out of order and remembering —rest