The coffee pot

There is nothing to hate but fear

Fear is what has landed us in

this place where it felt as though it mattered

This worrying about what someone else thought of you

and there you are, or maybe

it's me standing here

surely one of us must be wrong

but would we be?

still? if we were the other now?

Be gentle with yourself, dear Blossom

do not wilt before you die

My wish for you is to be plucked in your perfection,

then pressed eternally in a page as a

memory of the moment of love's inception,

where and whence we were born

And where we will always be 

you and me or was that I and thee?

What? Are you asking me what I think?

I have seen your dark and

I have seen your light and

still I want to hold you so tightly

and I'm so tired of the waiting

and it withers me to be shamed by my own impatience

yet I learn that I should not even pay mind to the thoughts of others

So why do I worry about my own?

when I am not love,

I am not me.

Press that one into your heart

and be free.



It's just a thought. It does not own you. Watch it slip away.