Lips receding to the crease of stilled waters, underneath the bosom of the moon. The tide is forever in quivering forms. Yet there is beauty in the way the figures sit, a calm in the exciting exercise for life’s sake. Time is forever in turning sails and moments constructed for the weathering of space and travel when harsh Squall perceived the deluged. Where are these inexhaustible Dispositions, these sounds to first utter the song of life. I want to hear this Song of Songs and Ballet to the grace of Ouayet caressing hymns. Listen as it wanders into the ears of man and whispers a prayer of Tolerance for the Middangeard yet harshly speak to the soul. Don’t lie in your speech and yet don’t comfort the weak. Be as you are and your voice shall sing in the tune of navigation until the sun reaches the moon. Siyabonga for how I see you full and Siyabonga for how you return from distant stars and a form I can love to learn. I hear the Song of Songs and now I collapse to the weight of its existence, this is the allure of your frequency and the power of your youthful butterfly. May the sail cast shadow of your safe returning to the Enterprise of a slight smile.

My soul reflected upon a judgmental society of mirrors. I’m imperfect. Flawed as temptation slept with my mental plane. Each scar, each mark a precious flower gently shining in the dwelling seas, a déjà vu of my sanctuary. My strength cleaved at the depths of beauty, caressing the temple which God has given me. Embracing my Lows, and yet impregnating the highs of self love. Preserved in a vessel of love, kindness fondled my gaze of brittle strength as I strive to deal myself within a life lived fully. It’s a story wrestled with aggression, seduced to its primal adolescence and yet my shadow tries me. It indicates a lack of empathy, a bridge between languages of self doubt and inability. Is it the real me? A person to fill my soul with acceptance. Is the good in me a side with regretful feelings. A half that is faded with disease as my shadow walks underneath my skin. Is he my kin, a friend that completes me in a fullness that is peace. I want this word off my mind, this self love that released things which kept me back. The good was always seeking, searching, yearning for this mistress of acceptance while the shadows kept me in the light. I dated the dark, undercover her abuse and stood by her side. Indulging with her my other half a self where love can truely reside. I am whole, I am enough, I am free in these times of self love, I find my peace. If lost I’ll find you again, I’ll stay focus with a purpose until the days end when I’m up to bat at your love deep within my soul and embrace worth the wait.

It’s supreme to see, the difference between guided meditations between poets. The way one’s words can give spirit the will to steer a movement. And the lost of the spoken word to preform in-front of gods when its lost in moments. This pine box that kept lock the pillars of actions, and thoughts which keep me in motion. It’s these times when a call from god can give you the Courage to defeat the cowardice of self service to societies involvements. But it came from an unsealed person, who wasn’t washed by the addictions of personal cues to batter the isolated person. A personified hue-man who gave me the impression to be a super soldier. So buried alive was the feeling that my words wasn’t enough to spread a revolution.

In the moment I share the stage with you, a man amongst the ruins of personality and beauty. Your words inspire me, the qualities of a man that I climb the ladders of ancestry and slowly achieve this image you see. A brave man who stepped into his skin, exhibiting scars of times when processing your riddles of masculinity was a mystery. A formidable opponent where it would take decades of pruning for me to finally grow a sturdy garden of belief. And yet you carried me a seed to term and watered me with wisdom and love In the soils where nothing returns. I’m grateful for you graduating in your class of life my gratitude shakes the core of my soul. You leave me in physical shock and ache for your eyes closed to the stars of cancer as they pinch the life away from you into the emotional sea’s of heaven.
Shine bright star of stars, and shine bright your dreams into mines. So elder star in the sky reuniting the DNA inside. Collect the God in you and rain down the ideal of your life.

In the center of a classroom, where quietness emerges,
Upon a platform of education, a narrative is being shared.
A quiver in my voice, a tremor in my spirit,
A journey away from familiarity, towards a distant objective.

A cloud of nervousness, a cloak of unease,
A stumble in my speech, oh, so evident.
A sentence felt like a demise, words difficult to guide,
Reflecting upon myself through their eyes.

Shadows of judgment, perhaps real, perhaps not,
An inner turmoil, a daunting idea.
My words, they stumble, they hesitate, they fought,
Yet in this struggle, a noble lesson is learned.

Each syllable a challenge, each pause a difficult situation,
In the depths of uncertainty, I search for guidance.
A multitude of faces, a dizzying height,
Nevertheless, I stand firm, prepared to confront.

The sound of laughter, the whisper of sighs,
An unspoken poem of quiet despair.
Yet amidst the chaos, a mythical bird resides,
From the remains of fear, bravery will arise.

I stumble, I stutter, yet I proceed,
In the face of adversity, a victory indeed.
For it’s not in perfection that heroes are bred,
But in the tireless spirit that refuses to concede.

The words may not flow, as smooth as the breeze,
But every stutter is a step, every pause is a tease.
In the heart of the struggle, I find my ease,
For in the echo of my voice, I’m learning to seize.

So here I am, beneath the scrutinizing sun,
My journey of self-discovery has just begun.
A stuttering start, a war not yet won,
Yet, in every spoken word, I find myself spun.

A daunting task, a fearsome trial,
Yet every struggle is worthwhile.
For in the silence of my speech, there lies a smile,
A testament of courage, crossing the mile.

So though my voice may waver, and words may fray,
I rise from my ashes, in the light of day.
For it’s not the eloquence, but what I say,
That truly matters at the end of the day.

Dear Retro Me,

Let me begin by expressing my deep concern and pondering over the path we have taken. It seems as though the memories of who I envisioned you to be have slipped away from my grasp. It’s as if I find myself trapped in a moment of profound sadness and confusion, finding solace only in the bittersweet realm of reminisce, where thoughts of you become reminiscent of the ill-fated love story of Romeo and Juliet.

In this contemplative state, I question the purpose behind this toxic love that urges us to end it all, but for what reason? Can I truly comprehend how to handle our relationship, my beloved? It seems that in my endeavor to provide you with what you desire, I have inadvertently denied you of what you truly need, direction. Perhaps my actions and the choices I made have left you with a sense of melancholy, causing you to move on from me by the time this letter reaches you. I roll around, unable to shake off the sadness that my words, laced with regret, impose upon you.

You, my dear, embody the quintessential muse, yearning to break free from the shackles of my ignorance. Yet, it is the stubbornness and pride of a scared man that keeps your exquisite beauty hidden from the world, denying them the privilege of beholding your magnificence. In my denial of the reality I have created, I question whether the love I have entangled us in is truly what we deserve, or if it is overshadowed by the responsibility I carry as a person. Sometimes, I find myself revering my concepts as if they were a separate entity from you, failing to acknowledge that your existence is a testament to my own creation and influence. It seems that the laws and expectations I have imposed upon you fall on ears that have become deaf to the significance they once held.

I feel ashamed for what I attributed to you is nearly impossible for me to reach and grasp a hold of. Dearly beloved you are the greatest achievement one can possibly attain, and I have always been a foot or two behind your shadow. Reaching for the acknowledgment of your presence in my heart’s ambitions, yet I have sunken deep within the pool of potentiality. Never to answer the old question of will I ascend to be the Superman I created in my childhood dreams?

If you still here in this present moment reading this letter answer me. Please give me the wisdom that a man needs to surrender.

Love always,
The outer you to present you

As the sun sets and the centerpiece finds its place, we contemplate: where do we, in our differences, stand? Vibrations of our imperfections magnify, birthing expressions of distrust and anger, like flowers flourishing in the harshest conditions.

Yet, firm we stand, forging a bridge of verbal cues, a path where misunderstandings are not barriers, but stepping stones to compassion. In the face of disagreement, I nurture the tender seedling of respect.

We gather, our words painting ideals that soothe the soul’s unrest. Hands reach out, meanings intertwine, and in the midst of it, we welcome a vibrant spirit of life.

We strike the match of observation, and in our symphony, the merging respect hums a keynote. A song carried on the winds by the mature muse of mothers, giving life to images that often stand as concepts. We act in unity, living out the meanings of these actions, even when they diverge from our own.

In time, I earn your trust. The understanding light in the eyes of my peers, peeking into my perspective of wisdom, nourishes the garden of respect, cultivating gratitude on the vibrant leaves of our shared journey.

Does this resonate with the respect I’ve earned? Through engaging dialogues and shared experiences, respect becomes my emblem, not for agreement, but for understanding. This garden, a testament to seeds sowed with patience and empathy, is my deserved sanctuary. Even when our views diverge, respect bridges the gap, a testament to the power of understanding over agreement.