Taking time to say it better...

As the sun began to peer out

from the darkened valley below,

two souls wandered and saw themselves

in each other's eyes.

It was a good springtime moment

in both of their lives... the depths

of darkness that lay behind

enabled them to gaze afresh in

wonder at the small miracles of life.

lightness, excitement and hope

took thier place in a renewed

foundation underneath thier feet,

assuring the sinues of their 

knowing souls that life would be

good, no matter what.

surely there was a good flow.

and surely the hopeless

romantic is no stranger to

the human heart.

Good vibes + good connections are

not annulled simply if true-love

is not, in effect, sprouted from them.

The fact is, gifts were given.

Material ones, yes; and in them

deep significance and symbolic

value. Overwhelmingly in fact. and

on top of that, the gifts of thought,

consideration, time attention and

the gallant sacrifice of vulnerable risk.

These things were not overlooked

or taken for granted.

However, there is forever a

mystery to love;

the way in which it's formed,

and the manner to which it lingers.

Try as we may, our human ventures

can only go so far, 

until they're picked up

by an unearthly wind,

a sacred and irrefutable spirit

that let's us say: yes;

without hindrance,

unharnessed to step forward

in peaceful passion

- this is something precious and mystic and pricelss - 

and there is no counterfeit will 

that can ever do this justice.

there can be sadness 

when things don't go as we'd have hoped...

but even in sorrow,

there rests the optimistic anticipation

of consolation and deliverance.

The bitter parts of life

can enrich the sweetness when it comes, 

and if we surrender to being honest to 

our own hearts and accepting of the seasons

as the pass across our pastures.

It's difficult to 'turn someone down'

when you believe that "LOVE IS WHAT 

MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND"

It seems paradoxical and I'm not sure

how to feel good about it.

But I do beleive you are a person worthy

of immense love, unbridled and whole.

And I ernestly hope you find it.

I'm sorry to say it cannot be me.

I've been more than flattered by 

all your undeserved kindness.

I feel you've given me much,

and for that, I thank you.

I want to give you: 

A most favorite book I've ever read.

I hope you too, can find comfort

and beauty within it's pages.

Not every story can end the classic fairytale,

But in each story, we can find beauty.

You shared a great amount with me - 

and I hope our friendship doesn't have to end.

with sincerity.

Madeleine

on: persuit

These specific days and hours find me longing for the sacred more than anything. I'm finding it in the cracks of windy willows; while embracing strength and sensitivity all in the same breath. It's standing firm and letting the spirit sway you all at once. What wonder. It's splattered everywhere.

I sat amongst 3 other girls, but I could not join them in their activities this time, because I desire the right timing, and a holy moment more than escaping, more than numbing. I'd rather feel all the hot tears run down my cheeks, while feeling invisible to the world, but know I'm seen and known in a way deeper than the soil knows a root and deeper than the kelp knows the sea.

I never want to grow a shell so crusted shut around my heart. But saying fuckit is different. It's healthy, I do believe. Because you need to give the finger to your fears, or you'll miss out on so much.

But wouldya look what the messenger brought me this morning. Such a collection of sacred meaningful things. Even a peach, he couldn't know the significance they hold for me. But no amount of orchards of peach trees, or bowl of berries, or feathers, or crosses, or ukuleles, or sunflower seeds, or collages or concerts will make me love him the way he wants me to love him. I'm sorry. You are a wonderful refreshing human. But it's not gonna be me.

To: Dakota

You were just a boy, a magic one, with green eyes and spitfire soul. Your whole body and brain bursting with talent and humor and life.

And here you are 21. But you seem 41. All burnt out and depressed and worn, and droopy-eyed, acting so tough. Back busted from bucking broncos, and car wrecks, and long hours installing factory sprinkler heads in hard hats, and all you care about is money, and things, and trucks and speakers, and gators, and girls, as they come and go. You play them and they play you, and you don't really invest yourself, even though all of you wants to and actually you do - but you're dying a little every day, more than any man should. And yeah -  I called you a man. But I knew you as a boy. And I loved that boy. In a way I rarely have any others. You niched a special place of belonging so deep in my heart. I always wanted so hard to someday have a son just like you. I don't wish we could go back - cause we were kids back then - and now we're older. But life has not bruised me like it has you. Well, I have lot's of scars, and tender bits, but I'm still hopeful, and I see life's magic still, and it keeps me going, and really just makes everything better. I want that for you too. Maybe you're more resilient then you let on. You always had that. Who are you pretending for? Stop that. Stop looking for love and meaning in all the worst possible places. I pray that someday your eyes open up, and you see the Maker of things, and you know exactly how much you're loved.

I watched your eyelids curl around those glassy peepers, and I saw slivers of your soul. Praise God that He let's us love, sometimes like this. Unconditional, and seeing. He must see us this way. On the edge of his seat, cheering and excited because he sees us as the best player on the t-ball team, and can't wait to see us succeed, cause he knows we got it in us. You can still succeed, buddy. You just gotta realize happiness doesn't come from things, and you will - because you were one to teach me that - all those so many years ago.