long list of why

what an impossibly beautiful thing; this world, this place, this time and space; to see and feel and hear and taste; to be alive and rise from simple stardust to dance around this grand and elegant failure where everything we love gets left behind.

special people turn a light on inside us that never goes out. should they leave us for a minute or forever, we can always step into that light and feel their warmth living as part of who we are. and whatever we become will be brighter because of the way they touched our lives.

part of me will always be on the closest star to the moon, immune to trappings of time. string-light dreams of you & i, trailing thru the night, destined to shine in future skies. and i will seek you out in a billion future lives, but this place we leave behind will see our love.

my favorite shades of everything, the hour before the sunrise. world curled in a loosening bud, moments from springing to life. it is a promise, a surfacing, as the colors unfurl their wings to kiss the light.

the serenity and sadness in knowing the insignificance of this all- not a speck of a slice of a blip in the endless march of time. every star will fall. we’re just along for the ride, afterthoughts in a grand design, with my heart in yours, your hand in mine, enraptured.

i wonder, do you know how i am drawn to you; not as a hummingbird to a flower, but as the ocean to the moon. your presence, in the depths of me, affecting all i do. the soft light of your love, so calm upon my surface, as quiet needs are raging just beneath.

on the calmest nights, the lake and sky merge into each other. in a tree by the shore, there’s a single-seater swing. if you’re brave enough, at the highest point, for a second you are weightless and it feels like you’ve let go of everything; just you and nothing… and stars.

found in calmer seas, she set out in search of storms just to feel alive.

a cloud of birds dips and swerves. gracefully they move as one. impromptu choreography executed beautifully. tiny little acrobats performing for the setting sun. a flourish of embroidery stitched upon my memory; finery i’ll recall when the ending of my journey has begun.

find your little piece of nowhere. love it with all you’ve got.

endeavor to move lightly through the halls of hope, the indefinite in-between from where you are to where you wish to be. for should you ever reach your destination, you are only guaranteed all the memories of the path on which you tread.