This world's logistics overwhelm me. Appointments, lunch dates: aaaah! But usually, I get by. Me being me, it all feels kind of mystical.
A poem about the beauty of our past, and the future coming, through the perspective of the freighters carrying our dreams.
This is the part when your mind wants to fight you. I promise it is worth the struggle. I’ve yet to have anyone regret passing through this gate.
Here we grapple with the justice of how to treat an ‘enemy’. When just next door she sleeps so peaceful. With prayers and knives... in kitchen sinks.
There seems to be some heavy congestion between our heads and hearts.
Choices of all kinds fill our lives. Maybe they're meaningless; maybe they're everything. I tend towards an intermediate approach....
Suddenly, no other words on the page mattered. I saw in these words such simple power, such truth, that I couldn’t ignore it. I saw there, too, a poem.
