Ideas of beauty and vision of self to come,
Time the chisel that shapes the memory,
Like water raging callously against the river bank.

Looking at a picture of George Washington in a history book and seeing faceless distortion,
Looking up at billboards and watching the the corrupt facsimile of mocking frown where a smile should be,
Listening to songs of those you’ve outlived telling you they’ll live forever,
Looking into the still image in the mirror in search of clairvoyance,
Discovering the ugly, cruel, formless, homunculus reaches for my face as i recoil aghast,
Feeding tomorrow’s insecurities,
I’m older now than you’ll ever be,
The everlasting present,

One day you’ll just wake up,
Without reason, without effort, without conscious, without yourself.
Nature’s hand turns the page,
She comforts you as you take your first breath,
To take care of you now is to take care of her in the future,
The everlasting present,

Despite having nothing to my name but my name,
All I can do is say thank you to today for promising me tomorrow.

Mornings are that rough snooze I barely miss. It’s the
huge stretch after knees crack to remind me age is but a
loose sound of movement. It’s a dragging feeling, a
reminder to when my laughter teased Father Time.
It is peaceful, knowing my mental foundation wasn’t a pretty
make over but these years of painful lessons I massage into
my seasons, and when I fall, I’m quick to spring back to my
youthful visage. I mean, winter brings pain, the death of
beauty and the crystallization of movement. Yet summer can
always be seen stretching my soul like it’s uplifted. One
moment I hyperventilate the other I’m free falling to the
bottom of freedoms pool of love. A love for the sensation of
old age being the companion I’ve wanted since my youth.
These astral phases become astral projections of the peace that
I recall seeing. This Growth is the key to my happiness, it’s
the years which times before turned the sun dial and I became
the time father dreamed of.

To Whom it Concerns and Dear Self,

I am to whom it concerns.
I have so much that I still need to learn.
I’m living in the now, not before or the after.
This is what I love most about this chapter.
To whom it concerns and dear self,
This chapter is titled health.
I am achieving my goals with stealth.
These feelings that I’m feeling were once felt.
This chapter that I love most is new to me.
I am myself and myself is who I choose to be.
Life is short so therefore I am living it fully.
I am constantly growing, and I am loving who I grew to be.
I mentioned before that this chapter is titled health.
Life is difficult and it can hurt like a snapped belt.
Life leaves visible bruises and unseen welts.
This is to whom it concerns and dear self.

By Kelly M. Wolff

There’s a stirring within me,
a fervent desire to be seen and heard;
a dormant talent calling out,
beckoning to appear.
Countless thoughts,
endless visions.

The artist emerges,
brush in hand,
painting a scene so serene,
igniting a fire from within.

Can I unveil these parts of me?
Will I be favorably received?
Listen closely:
My voice will echo-
Recognize this, my unique sound,
for soon, favor shall be found.

I bleed rainbows and cry stars

I find community in bars

I was sorrow, I was sin

I denied myself to win

I was lonely and unsure

But no longer immature

I am love and I am strong

I am fearless in my song

I don’t care what others think

And I’ll raise another drink

To brave souls that came before

And blew the locks upon the doors

I am free and I run wild

Like the art made by a child

No remorse and no regret

What you see is what you get

Walk with me and feel my pride

And you will enjoy the ride

Of vibrant life and color burst

Without hunger, without thirst

I am technicolor smile

It just took me but a while

Now I am “alternative”

Let me love and let me live

In this chapter of becoming me
My idea of who I want to be
Has evolved as a result of life
Experience in both love and strife
I find seldom is there black and white
Or simply wrong or completely right
But rather in this world of gray
We must live in our authentic way
Today I’m proud to say I’m queer
I’ll shout it out both far and near
Because in this chapter of becoming me
I’m exactly who I’m meant to be

Remember days like this in frailer years
when silence swallows up your tired soul,
for time will fall away with wistful tears
to fill an echovision water hole.

Deep ripples push his childhood toward the shore,
revealing smiles, laughter, hugs, and trust
in intermittent flashes that restore
the endless ways he killed your wanderlust.

Unburdened by responsibility
and ripe with wisdom, patience, and aplomb,
your inhibitions sank and you were free
to be his guide, his friend, his place of calm.

Sweet memories were anchored to forever
each time you sang of baby sharks together.