Ode to the fox...

When you get to the last page

Of the story you've been telling,

Starring in like a movie.

The last word and last breath

Will you be satisfied with everything you've said?

Or will regrets roll around in your brain like marbles?

Waiting for you to make peace with the fact

That you never climbed that mountain

Never kissed that girl

Never broke the mold that you were jammed into by this world

that is filled with so many unspoken rules.

There is a hint of irony here

On this, the last page of your life

You wish for another chapter

Another page

Another word.

But do not worry, for even though this story is ending

you will soon be on a new journey.

Maybe this time some risks will be taken,

Those kisses won't be hanging in the lonely place of ‘what if’’

No

Your energy cannot be destroyed

It will be transformed.

Your story is not ending, it's just time for the next volume.

Maybe the last page, the last sentence, last word will be enough for you to be at rest.

To be satisfied with your experience of the miracle we call life.

To be at peace with your experience of the miracle of death.

We only change, we never truly fade away.

Oxygen Mask

That night when
without warning
You told me you'd rescue me
Without prompting
or pretense
Just the exhaustion of truth
An adventure
To save us both
From the inevitability
of our own self destruction

What a lovely sentiment.

Unburdened

She leaves her burdens at the door

and finds herself living in the moment

In a touch, a taste, a smell

Words uttered by another so succinctly

that they reverberate inside her rib cage

And lodge themselves deeply into her patchwork heart

Her expression changes

A wry smile dances across her ruby lips

She is vindicated and and for once she is not hesitating

Her gut is leading her to a place where regret no longer resides

Where love is the only language spoken

After all this time, she has finally made it home.

Her hands, once shaking with indecision

Are now steady and deliberate

In this place, this moment

She is free.

Drip.

Where has the depth gone?
Has the water drained and we are left
Like fish, struggling to stay wet?
Stay in the depths of our own minds?

Where is the faucet?
I search for that fountain and my eyes glaze.
I lie still, gasping
I break.

Dandelion

So it seems that I'm a ghost now
You see right through me
Then you walk on by.

So it seems that I'm a speck of dust
Hitching rides into the atmosphere
Landing on your cheek

You catch a glimpse 

and remove me

You think I'm something to wish upon

Not knowing that you wished upon 

Precisely what you seek.

broken

 I mourn for my past self for she is no more
The sparkle has dimmed as the days grow short
There is a cloud surrounding me
Preventing me from seeing the person I ought to be
My hands, worn from all the days I worked without intention
seem so far away from the ones that used to create magic from nothing
I do not feel that holiness connecting me anymore
There is no ethereal string pulling me through my days
There is only flesh now
Aching, tired, distorted and sedentary
The tiny dancer has gone, along with the mystical artist
They have found a new host
One that isn't as volatile and broken
That can harness them like wild horses and tame them
Until they become an unfamiliar beauty
glowing in the darkness
A speck through the fog
that my unfamiliar hands reach for but can never quite grab.