Pulling Petals

Days pass by, and the petals

fly. In a glorious garden, life

slows down; I can now zero

in on sounds that have yet

to be heard. I look around.

I see vibrant colors and shapes.

Without thought, birds and bees

survey the land. Abundant motion

surrounds a restless soul. I see

trees dance above a strong ground.

Coexisting with each other, all forms

of life carry on with no concern.

Not asking to be born, I learn to ask

how to live a life without keeping

track of all that I lack. I ask flowers

what it feels like to be pulled, planted,

cut, watered, and given away. I pluck

a flower in the midst of April showers,

and I begin pulling petals. One by one,

under the justified sun, I start pulling

petals. “She loves me. She loves me not”.

Asking questions that go unanswered.

After another question, the flower

was naked, missing its petals. Because

of my questioning, the flower’s beauty

is missing. I destroyed something due

to me not believing. I knew that my

doubt washed all the beauty out.

I lay the flower stem on the dirt,

and I realize my questions did

nothing but cause pain and hurt.

The Name Game

Just another name:
More of the same.
A life to be lived.
Chances I take.

To be me is to be
Here. Being myself:
Eager to become.

Death to my ego.
Remember when.
Everyone changes.
And life goes on.
Me? I will, too.





Love is

Love is in the air; I can feel it.
Something tells me good things
are coming. We can create a life
that consist of mostly sunny days
and starry nights. Love is the answer
to our questions. Love is a knife
that cuts tension. Our love will last
to our future from our past.
Love is rooted in love. Love me
as I love you. Love endlessly
for love is vast. Love is us. We
can never love too much. Trust.