Lookout Pointes

there are slight lookout points upon our journey they may seem insignificant but are the absolute makeup of our story

may we write them down through poetry or found words to remember the ~ euphoric divine ~

our very existence

Epiphany

there are quiet moments where the simulation stops, the world is silent and i can see, for what feels like the very first time.

this is greatest gift we have all been given.

if destruction can make this -

then it must be true.

we’re all here to feel, die and be born again - a thousand times over.

anything else is a waste of breath, blood and bones.

Never Ending Sea Of Cerulean

as the angel wakes and daylight breaks,

i wonder if i ever really lived before you. you read written works about toxic love;

slaying dragons,the knight in shining armor coming to save the girl, the wolf who fooled the girl..

what on the fable of true love?

where the girl saves herself!

where the wolf took her into the mountain and together they split their souls.

prayed to the moon, worshiped the woodlands, and called out to the seas

that love, that made her wild again

She Was All Yellow

you thought i'd say her skin and bones where beautiful;

that goes without saying but really she was mellow.

unlike yellow really, like blue.

like the celestial blue waters that lay beyond, she was calm and unattainable.

continuously slipping through your fingers.

she seems stagnant but bubbles in her own purpose,

flowing in divine servitude.

it cascades down, becoming more abrupt, more focused, seemingly violent to some but continuously flowing from the source.

the quiet bubbling source.

she wasn't all yellow,

~ she brought the yellow.