Could have allowed grief to have space in the garden but thought permission was needed. Should have stood but leaning seemed meant to be. Could have painted clearly but the debris was moving. Should have done something different but the familiar had the gift of gab….

Everything is complex on journeys where love and hate are wrapped in paper shields. Where dreams lie and hope is tall while shadows are wider. Where colors bloom and flowers stand still while debris moves. Where breathing labors and living has been more while existing…

Mostly because of tomorrow, we look forward with hope but mostly yesterday’s meetings have our eyes glancing back with a quiet pleading wrapped inside a paper shield. One a longing for something whose moments never live without the presence of happiness. The other a…

If it were possible to leave behind the existence of invisible wounds, would “unstoppable” be the energy flowing onto every unwritten page? If teardrops only fell during laughter that makes stomachs hurt, would the meaning of blood, sweat and tears touch…

Buy the stories and unwritten is a predictable read. Juggle conditions for happiness and lack confines hope. Breathe in debris and fade resistant art keeps being put out.  Listen to certain moments and doubt’s potential climbs. Endure familiar conversations and…