i want to watch the Perseids with you, hours after the sun tumbles over the horizon, and i want to marvel at the starry sky with you, vividly, under the darkness of the new moon.

i want to tell you my hopes and dreams under the wonders of the streaked night sky. i want to listen to your breathing, thankful for your life and your friendship. i want to listen to you share your dreams, blessed by knowing your beautiful heart and mind. i want these moments of wonder to change us, as we are made aware of how infinitesimal we are. i want to know you more as we plot to change our corners of the world by loving everyone. we experience joy and peace in the earth's daily routines and meteoric interruptions.

knowing you has changed me immeasurably, i am a better person because of you. i am so proud of you for your growth and tenacity. i enjoy you and the years of friendship and learning and growing.

i want to watch the Perseids with you, one thousand five hundred sixty-five miles away, and i want to marvel at the starry sky with you, separately, in the quiet solitude of the new moon. i want to tell you, to listen to you, to change with you, to know you more. . .in due time. we experience joy and peace in the life's daily routines and fiery interruptions.

i won't eclipse you, my friend. be authentically you. i love you and i will accept you as you are.

waves

there is a certain kind of solitude in the waves, a quiet breaking through the sounds of crashing, children playing, life going on in everyone's own little individual world. they're better with company but no matter how many people ride them next to me, no one rides them with me. the ocean inspires awe and demands respect, she is relentless and will not be stopped. growing up oceanside meant learning to expect the waves and learning to read them. there is a rhythm, sometimes syncopated, surprises are expected, lulls can mean one of two opposite things coming next, or sometimes nothing changes at all. over, under, through. over, under, or through? decisions made in milliseconds, every single time.

emotions are currents. they bring waves, and i have no control over them, just decisions to make. how do i handle them? can i coast through, do i need to steel myself, take in extra air? no matter how many i have ridden, sometimes there's something so unexpected, rough, chaotic, turning me in crooked somersaults under water, craving air, fighting to control panic, keep my suit in place, remembering where the floor is and rapidly interpreting little changes telling me when i can come up. no one rides it with me.

time and experience is my teacher, and every crash is a lesson, carefully catalogued, studied, something to anticipate next time. each subsequent crash mitigated by new information, better planning, knowing what to expect.

a few years ago i was fucking taken for a ride, and i nearly drowned. but i didn't. every moment underwater terrified me, and i started to panic. coming up for air was sudden, lifesaving, remembered. the time afterward a time of reflection, study.

i just got knocked over by another unexpected wave and momentarily panicked before remembering what to do. i kept track of the floor, ready to spring off it up for air when i found a lull, and i made it. and so i study the sequence, because i'm not going to die next time, either. no one rode it with me, but several rode beside me.



all is well(butrin)

gravity

you pulled me into your orbit and i felt free, hurtling a million miles an hour on a new path but you didn't tell me the weight, the cost, and i was too caught up to ask.

you pulled me into your erratic dance, your momentum, and i loved the chaotic ride. i didn't know you were still a slingshot, and suddenly i am hurtling away from you faster than you pulled me in. you're so icy blue, beautiful but frigid, dangerous, and deadly.

at least your fling was swift and hard, and you sent me so far away you'll never pull me in again. interstellar, void, dark, but peacefully, chaoticly, dangerously outside your reach.

patina

i dream, i dream of everything sparkling and shiny and glimmering golden, knowing it won't always be so new. pure gold is delicate and malleable, but it lacks strength. we're alloys, giving resistance to pressure. we show age and wear, and sometimes we darken and dull. vintage is in. let me wear my marks with you, let me be loved through it all and for it all. i want to be your heirloom and you mine.

patina makes us look aged, unassuming. you need some careful attention to each curve and twist, filigree and crevice. take your time, my love, but don't take forever. come back to me in the same shape with new gleam, refreshed and treasured.

golden

it's both new and familiar because of the years and changes and time and dreams and intimacy and curiosity.

vulnerability has changed us, gradually and suddenly, old and new all at once. old routines, new patterns. old love, new love. we live another day, golden when the sun promises light and warmth and photosynthesis. golden again when the sun is on the verge of tumbling over the horizon to bring us the wonder of the stars and the awareness of how infinitesimal we are. we find joy and peace in the routines, the golden hours that come every day; we also find joy and peace in the interruptions and storms, dark nights and scorching days.

let's be inconsequential to world history together, let's face mortality with a love and a life that promises enduring vitality. it's not lying, or deluded. it's just another perspective, because when i'm with you, i still know i'm nothing and nobody...but not to you. and not to the better world we dream of. we won't change the world, but we will change each other and change little bits of our corners of life. we won't make the history books, but we will make memories together and we'll make memories that outlast us. we won't live forever, but we will live on beyond death because we will love everyone.

my love for you is profound, changing me every day. i'm afraid of my own caducity, but i'm not afraid to get old with you. the way seaside sunsets and early morning wheat fields have changed me, so will our golden years.