Monitoring

I craved a garden to grow from my skin.

A rose,

a daisy,

an orchid,

so when they said, "Wake up, and smell the flowers”

there’d be one waiting for you.

I believe whole heartedly that depression snatched my imagination away.

My spark used to make the flowers bloom in the night sky.

Until it vanished.

Don’t fret,

I am searching for that magic spell to bring it back.

I desperately wished on that wishing star every night,

practically begging for a wish come true.

Childish?

Maybe.

But who wrote the rules that we need to give up our childlike wonder?

Call it a fairy tale,

call it whatever you want.

Slaying the fire breathing dragon is more thrilling than watching my dreams slip away.

Watch my spirit become a fire cracker.

My sanity is spiraling to delusion.

I couldn’t care less.

They’ve all had their turn:

“A witch”,

“a heathen”,

“a monster”,

“a weirdo”,

“an outcast”.

What’s one more name on the list,

I’m too busy building my own story.

When was the last time you dreamt of soaring through the sky?

Without societal chains dragging you to your knees?

All I imagine is how beautiful it could’ve been if no one clipped my wings.

Perhaps,

in the next lifetime I’ll learn how to make them indestructible.

For now,

I’ll paper-mache these whimsical wings.

Who knows,

maybe that wishing star might grant me a miracle.

I’m betting on it.

I’m not getting trapped in the practicality of life.

I’ll keep dreaming I can unravel the secrets of the universe.

Trust me,

People say love is a concept, that we prove exists everyday,

I can't help but disagree.

We prove love exists daily by being here on earth, by just existing,

Some say it resides in our heart, but our heart is just a muscle with its own beat and rhythm,

Some so its our soul, get we are never sure if those fully exist,

Others argue our brain, with every nerve and neuron,

Some say true love doesn't exist while another carry hope.

We prove it exists, no matter where it is, its in us.

My proof is you, is me, is everyone around us.

It is my love for the earth and place we live,

Its the poetry I write,

The songs I listen to,

Its the people in our history fighting hard for what they know is right,

Its the nature photographer watching a mother and a child,

Its the film maker who dreamed of this for years on end,

Its the artist who loves nothing more than creation.

Love is something we prove everyday,

Not just in humans, but on earth, love is in abundance,

Though hard to find at times, you must look where you've never thought of before.

What I disagree with is that Love is a concept,

You can't touch concepts, but I can touch you.

I can feel your hands and your breath,

I can touch the ocean and the sand,

I can touch the grass and animals,

The trees and all the leaves,

The snow and the rain.

Love isn't a concept, it's not something mysterious.

It's not something difficult for me to find,

I see it everywhere I go.

I feel it, I can touch it.