1. Bright & Early *

bright and early,
through the curtains,
the sun comes pouring in.
filling glasses up with diamonds,
stirring where i’ve been

but it’s all trigger and effect.
dominoes at their best.

in the end i’m told
it taught me everything i know.
that the wreckage left behind,
will somehow make me grow.

but why couldn’t i have been safe from the start?
soundly asleep.

the warmth of blankets
makes me nervous.
i’d rather catch a cold.

like sparks in matches,
blink, you’ll miss it,
the future’s up in smoke.

though dust has settled,
I still smell the ashes
buried in my clothes.

it’s all trigger and effect, i know…
dominoes at their best.

in the end i’m told
it taught me everything i know.
but when the fire took our home,
i lost part of my soul.

from the ground up
i’ll keep building
houses into homes.

’cause if trust is ribbon,
then patience ties it
in a perfect bow.

2. Emphasis **

death is promised to the bee
who’s sting protects the colony.
was its life worth nothing more
than honey for the queen?

life is a branch and it is a dove,
handcrafted by confusing love.
sign language is our reply,
when church bells make no sound.

in hollow towers and empty hives,
we craved sweetness with a fear of heights.
was it all just a grain of sand
in an hourglass?

the smartest thing i’ve ever learned
is that i don’t have all the answers,
just a little light to call my own.

though it pales in comparison
to the overarching shadows,
a speck of light can reignite the sun
and swallow darkness whole.

death is a cold, blindfolded kiss.
it is the finger pressed upon our lips.
it puts an unwanted emphasis
on how we should have lived.

life is a gorgeous, broken gift.
six billion+ pieces waiting to be fixed.
love letters that were never signed,
sent to where we live.

but the sweetest thing i’ve ever heard
is that i don’t have to have the answers,
just a little light to call my own.

though it pales in comparison
to the overarching shadows,
a speck of light can reignite the sun
and swallow darkness whole.

3. 101010 *

hold your breath and count to 28.
change is slow but i feel it taking shape.
folding over us like waves
on origami ocean tides, we sway

like blueprints constantly being rearranged.
over microscopes we plan and strain.

the finest print in the whitest ink,
before it dries, there’s no time to think.
it feels like everything we’ve known is sink or swim

but grey is not a compromise -
it is the bridge between two sides.
i would even argue that it is the color
that most represents God’s eyes.

hold your breath and count to 29.
connect the dots and cherish every line.

paper cuts and trails aside,
make a wish and hold it tight,
this time, we’ll try our very hardest not to try.

‘cause grey is not a compromise -
it is the bridge between two sides.
the shores on which our stubborn land
and restless seas collide.
grey is not just middle ground,
it is a truce that waits to be signed.
i would even argue that, from where we stand,
it most represents the color of God’s eyes.

so, let’s fold our atlas into paper planes.
change is slow, but i feel it taking shape.