We all start somewhere. You take the time to know the steps. Or you take a leap into trial and error.

I leap everytime.

I chase the moon.

With my eyes,

in the light,

with a lens,

in the night.

I chase the moon with all my life.

(Credit of the close up shot of the moon goes to R. Robinson)

Calling on the Creator of the heavens, moon, planets, and stars- The colors that we hoist stand for the natural rights You have granted us. The red represents the sacrifice that has come before us as we’ve experienced the sting of loss that grows us stronger. The white represents our ability to look at our brother and sister who may hold different beliefs, yet we are still willing to find the common threads that keep us whole. And the blue represents the victory of freedom that we find when we stand against any forces of greed and hatred that try to tear us apart. Today I ask for your grace and favor to heal and restore us. Weaken the darkness that tries to pull apart the threads of a life we cherish. We need your guidance and love to draw our gaze towards you. Open our hearts to your mercy as you reign protection down upon our nation. In the name of my gracious savior, Jesus Christ, Amen.

Last seen-The notion of love we symbolize with a heart.

A heart is only a muscle acting as a machine.

To understand love, study the machine.

Someone told you stories about love, they made you believe there was a true blue connection.

But that’s not the way of a machine.

They only function, they do not feel.

They get repaired, replaced, retired…

And they stop.

This is the real story of love.

The last scene.

It really broke my heart.

Did it break yours, too?

RIP CK. 💔

We always wish and hope to hear those words from those we love.

But sometimes they are the last words of someone you cared about.

Leaving you forever with a memory of loss on your birthday no matter if you tuck it away, or try to ignore it.

Birthdays are weird and unusual.

I didn’t want this summer to end.

But I held back my tears and forced the anxiety down.

I couldn’t tell you about it.

And you didn’t ask.

The only thing that told me goodnight was the pink Crescent moon.

A few days ago I dreamt of you again.

This time you found me in an old abandoned house. The wooden floors, worn and brown.

I was crouched down in the kitchen with fear.

You walked upstairs and then back down.

Then you turned and looked at me.

You had a gun in a holster and a long, sharp blade at your hip. Your eyes said they were for me.

I made myself wake up.

There are two kinds of dreaming:

Sometimes a person visits you in a dream and your mind finally realizes who they always were.

Sometimes you stand before a mountain and your heart realizes it’s those moments and who you share them with that mean everything.

Heartbreak doesn’t ruin poetry.

Poetry is the only thing that can heal.