i can't help but wonder if i'm doing anything worthwhile.

i think that's all i had to say.

glimpses and sweat

You are beautiful.
Like a soft twinkle in the blackness,
Like a rose petal in the mud,
Like a single flame in a snowy cave,

Oh my gosh, how you shine.

"But above all, I wish you love."
You taught me the meaning of an embrace,
The power of one deliberate glance,
and how to see beauty in the ugliest of places.

Your heart is so big sometimes.
I'm worried it will explode.
But if it did, it would be something like this:

A brilliant confetti of golds and reds,
Showering and shining
Like goldfish scales and pearls.

A sparkling myriad of color and light,
And beauty so great we'd all be blinded.

(We'd live better that way, anyway—"Why can't we just judge each other for our souls?")

You are not a doormat,
Or even a doorway,
But an ornate portico,
With sunshine searing through its columns
And thick marble floors,
And aged leather couches
Sitting next to tall stacks of books
On oak sidetables with coffee mug-rings.

You are wonderful, welcoming
You are my hero, my friend, my sister
You are a blessing.
Thank you for your love,
Thank you for your life.

observations

there is a man with a Mohawk, two rows ahead. A real Mohawk, with his head shaved on the sides. he’s two rows ahead, chugging pbr and letting the last bit drip down his throat. two rows ahead, he smacks his lips and I accidentally make eye contact with him. sharks jersey and squinty eyes, like he’s seen too much today. eye contact again. awkward. two rows ahead. the train stops for a bit, the announcer mumbling station names across the speakers. buzzing fluorescent lights, unflattering for everyone. we all look like zombies, washed out and tired. no one would guess that today was beautiful.

contrary

There is some quiet, secretive joy and peace that exists only on Saturday mornings. It's exciting to be awake before the rest of the world. There were only two of us in the library basement for the first two hours, tapping dragged-out words on our keyboards, fighting the morning drowse. I can't find the words for what I need to today, but this is enough for me, I think.

Today I want to run. I've never been good at running (short legs, awkward pacer, super susceptible to shin-splints), so it should be quite the endeavor. I don't think I really know where the Campus Loop is. Hm.

Currently listening: (free on iTunes!) "Something Good Can Work" by Two Door Cinema Club.

horses

Today is fresh and windy, and I couldn't help but think (pray) that the breeze would carry my smile across the world, to you. I hope you're riding horses. I hope you're living your dream and loving your dream. Well, you've always loved your dreams. I can see you now, eyes sparkling and peering over moonlit Spanish rooftops. With that warm, lopsided grin. No, maybe that complacent frown. Either way, you are there! You're there. I wish the breeze could carry my love to you.

I hope you're riding horses. I hope you've felt the dirt on your feet, I hope you've bronzed your forehead and callused your fingertips, I hope you're happy. Ganas. That is what you've always had in most of you. So much, that you laughed at the thought of riding horses. (That's not what Spain's for.)

I will always believe that horses are Spain—but there you go again, with your functions and logic. Still. However you find happiness, whether it be in counting bricks and crumbled stucco or touching the thigh of some exotic Spanish coquette, I hope you find it.

I hope you're enchanted by the music and bustle, the conversations and food. I hope you will let yourself be enchanted. Somewhere across the world, you are sleeping soundly in a foreign home, or walking on stony sidewalks, or sitting next to a window, measuring the distances between stars and dreaming about her.

Today is fresh and windy, and I hope you're riding horses.

deliberate

Excuse me, sir—may I try on that pair?
Yes, over there.
They fit snugly behind my lids,
Blinking, squinting, squeaking.
I rub them a little—no grit, so smooth (hmm)
New eyes.
Excuse me, sir—how do You keep these on?
They are too good to be true!
They see too much good to be true!
Excuse me, sir—are You sure these are for me?
They've always been?
You would love for me to have them?
Sir, I don't think I deserve these.
Besides, they're a little strange.
Everything looks brighter,
everything looks better,
everyone looks so...lovely.
Are these real?
Blinking, squinting, You nod with a smile.
I'll be sure to take care of them.
Free of charge?
Like You said, they were always meant for me?
Okay. Okay, sir. Whatever you say.
Stepping out into blinding rays (no longer squinting)
I am finally seeing (or trying)
with Your eyes.

Thank you, sir.

Joy.

I woke up smiling today. You know those days when you decide you're going to be happy? Today was one of them. I'm seeing a tiny glimpse of what you've been throwing in front of me this entire time! Thank you. I barely have words—bliss? No, too superficial. Happy? Not enough! So...joy. Joy and all that comes with that. Agape, all around.

congested

virtue for the virtuous—
what good is the truth if it's not acted upon?
knowledge of justice does not indicate the just,
wisdom is not wisdom without action.
perhaps I am not who I thought I was.
I am squinting,
peering through the clamor of the valley,
catching glimpses of the greatness to come.
storing sunbeams behind my ears
and polishing,
so much polishing.
Glaze, glossy
The Unquenchable Thirst
for
what
i think
i knew all along.
Abandonment of one
and my pursuit of another
and hoping
trusting
that it was just the fog all along.......