I ache for you, sweet summer.
The warmth of your arms fills my memory
in the darkest days.
You are Altair. I am your Vega.
Destined to meet but once a year in this: the seventh month.
Weep not, lest I should be kept from the light of your sky.
Instead, smile and embrace this moment as the only moment.
And perhaps it could last for an eternity.
For heaven must surely be made of this: this warmth, these wildflowers
all a-bloom, these soft winds that caress and entice, the smell of ripened fruit, blackberry sweetness dripping from the vines.
And all of this
continuing on without end.
How I ache for you, sweet summer.
How I wait for you to come again.

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The Bliss Between Days

I find myself,

in these hours that separate

the morning from the night,

with Quiet Letters

reminding me

of who I am and who you are.

This journey, this endless ocean

at once so vast,

ends abruptly into the sea of stars.

We are so inconsequential

that we become everything

and we become everyone

and with no distinction

there is only us


Take my hand.

Walk with me and witness

All that we impact by the breath of our voice

All that we touch with the gaze of our eyes

there is only

the difference of perspective

between the I

the You

and Them

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