“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling”
—Oscar Wilde
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@resonantairwaves
“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling”
—Oscar Wilde

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Thanksgiving - An Introvert’s Tanka
I enjoyed time with Family for Thanksgiving Now back home alone Silence can be just as sweet Recharging my battery
This is for you.
For the empire state with
a skyline that never ends
for a city that never sleeps
lights seep into the crevices
of weary faces, unknown spaces
and crowded city traffic
This is for you.
For Broadway stages
And concrete pages we appreciate
Life and love and celebrate
How far we’ve come
And how far we have to go
This is for you.
For the nights and sights
ablaze by modern times squared
into marquees that make the day
run for twenty four hours
the moon is jealous as it passes
along - unnoticed
This is for you.
For the apple a day that just
might kill you…if you don’t
learn the value of sleep
or traffic signs
This is for you.
For the sights and the sounds
For the lost finally found
For the opportunities abound
And for the freedom instilled
by a flame and a crown.
To the Greatest City in the World
This poem...is for you
how did this happen?
I'm minding my own business
then BOOM! there you were
Of Grief and Breaths and Clocks
Grief is an interesting thing.
It’s a heavy, unmovable thing.
It’s the feeling of drowning in an invisible ocean of half-hearted breaths and salty tears.
Grief is fog that fills up and affects everything around it.
People can’t bear to see it... People can’t bear to feel it...
Yet it wraps its fingers around you and makes you feel it.
It’s the urge to look away. It’s the murmur in your heart that begets the pain from seeing it.
Grief is a tricky thing.
There’s no real cure for it. Some cry. Some sleep. Some deny. Some dive headfirst into it. Some come back up for air... ...and some don’t.
It can come for you at anytime it pleases Like a time bomb with an invisible clock
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
You can’t see it (yet) You can’t feel it (yet) But you know it’s there And that it’s coming.
Because grief is inescapable... Like your next breath. If you don’t forget to breathe.
BOOM.

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Book Thoughts
Reading a book is kind of like going on a vacation. You’re in another land. Another time. A place where you’re not thinking about anything other than the present world you're in. Especially when that world is not your own. You live in it. You learn the customs. You meet and get to know some of the inhabitants. Every time you set the book down, it's like go to sleep. Then waking up again each time you pick it back up. Then the sadness sets in as you near the end of the book. You know it has to end. All things end in their own time. And you try to to delay in inevitable, but you know it must end. And you’re forced to shoulder the sadness of having to leave that world behind and go back to your own. But that's okay because you have the memories and the feelings that you felt while you were away in a book. But isn't that the real reward of a good book? The lasting impression it made on your brain and in your heart? I tend to think so
🎃 ★ ° 🕸️ O c t o b e r : Movies You Can Watch This Halloween 🕸️ ° ★ 🎃
It’s an amazing October!
In all honesty, I've lost my voice the ink has faded from my veins. Monochromatic musings make valuable space wasted on weak words I have found myself staring into an abyss of white hoping it would rain and shroud myself in the blackness of excess ink There is no such thing as an excess of words... just an excess of the misuse of them. And I fear that I've been caught black-handed and still bleeding Yet there is no blood that matches my type so I lay on the pavement hoping that the remainder of me will make the difference I sought between the books of the poets that made me who I am and that this confession, signed and sealed with a pen will alleviate me from my mental alcatraz lest I die with no voice to say... Goodbye.
[In]Tangible
There is something nice in seeing; in hearing; in touching; in smelling; in KNOWING; and giving voice to, something so concrete that you know for a fact is true. Like the smell fresh rain or the feeling of it as it hits your face. Like the sight of a good deed and hearing the voices of thanks by a humanity thought long gone And knowing that there is still some good in the world.
Yet there is something... mysteriously attractive about a thought, a dream, an aspiration, a belief. The intangible always has a way of arresting you trapped in something that reality just cannot understand couldnít understand unless it were willing to embrace that which cannot be proven true
I find myself living and dreaming between the two embracing the reality of dreams at night and making dreams real by day.
Stargazing - A Sonnet
There is a time when I look out the window At all the stars shining like beacons in the night Hidden away in a place only I know Where I can be lifted up and bask in the light A symphony of gravity that always escapes my sight But always there, calling me to realize The world is much greater than any human height And more complex dwelling in its infinite size Maybe that’s why clarity comes when I close my eyes The darkness behind them mimics the infinite Possibilities that only imagination can recognize In the darkness where even the inarticulate Can create something that can reach the darkest of places Glowing in each one like lights in the infinite of spaces

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I don't even know where to begin Everything just happened like the manifestation of an idea taken hold somewhere to grow mature and evolve into something more whole complete [most times, in a good way] Was there ever a beginning? if there was no beginning then at what point can we say that this - this life this love and everything In nuanced Between and shaded and jaded is something beyond what we could call "time"? something beyond what we could call "yours" and "mine" and just say it just "IS"?
we have eternity to find out.
I love days like this
When it’s your day off and the weather gives you reason to stay in and read and write. I like a 24 hour weekend after the weekend.
Dust
The dust in the air
Serves as an echo of past
Times: Happy and Sad
A Peaceful Haiku
When the wind stands still And all you can hear is the Earth slowly breathing
5 Years Old
I’m not five anymore… I accept things can and must change Like the weather, we move forwards and sometimes even sideways, but we are always changing The time we spend today we never get back There’s no need to keep rose colored glasses That only keeps me from seeing the world for what it truly is - Magnificent Terrifying Thrilling and unique beyond anything I can imagine The Yellow sun and the smiles it shines upon us The Blue Sky that keeps us breathing and carries The power of chaos The Green trees that offer shade as well as shelter to the most beautiful things I still may be young, but I can’t stay the same forever The world is waiting… And I am ready to face it.

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Maybe Tomorrow (Today’s not a good day for peace)
Maybe tomorrow, things will start to make sense. Everything won’t be so Black or White. Here or There. Us or Them. The world won’t be so afraid of itself and the people living on it won’t continue to make it so.
Maybe tomorrow, everyone can walk down the street and be accepted for who they are what they are and how they are without the desire to make everyone the same as everyone else. Individuality is humanity’s greatest gift and somewhere along the way we forgot that
Maybe tomorrow, we can find it out again. Maybe we can move forward and live without fear, love without scrutiny, and just be what we truly are:
Human.