Ode to Love

I wake at rest, and from first light an excitement builds within me. I go through my usual routine, checking on my rat and letting thoughts linger some on each thing Hope has given me. These adventures have been a true gem, one I hope not to forget for anything. I finish my preparation and head out the door through the halls o' eep.   The halls still have a thin layer of fog lining the floor that billows with each step. The way it accents the pumpkins though, it is hard to say if it is lingering from yesterday, or intentional as of today. I have come to find that this is the way with many states of mind, intention a many layered cake, with not every ingredient having been consciously made by the one who has it. Or is it "by the one who eats it?" I am still pondering this question that has unexpectedly sprung to mind when I reach Hope's door, having walked in silence. I realize my error and sigh, still I consider it is no matter at this point to face the flames. I knoc...

From the wilderness This story has been blooming Since the garden dream Love exceeds a man But when he will not let go Love elevates him There are sins to snip Some sweet, some bitter and deep Then a soul is spli(t)(ced) For this arrangement Something new beneath the sun The tailor smiles But I remember The first time I saw her tears Though I was blinded Not knowing the steps In the best worst way I could I refused to leave The rest burned away Did time stand still on that day? For me it still does For the dream ended The moment I saw her face To this day I wait

I rise before the dawn, to what sounds like whispers in the halls. As soon as I try to focus on them, they are gone. Were they part of a dream? If they were, would that make the shadowed things they spoke of any less real in this place? Considering highs and lows, and favorite things deferred for less important ones, sleights of mind that should be housed entirely here, I ready myself quickly, giving the rat a pat and its daily food and water, and the purple heart a determined look, before grabbing the blue kazoo, in case some nonsense or celebration is needed, and I take to the halls.   I pay close attention as I make my trek, looking for any clue that might tip the scales in my favor. I hear soft rage and a sadness, which is to be expected, but the cadence catches my ear. I recall the words of a friend "It is as if some options normally available to you are just blocked." I notice the whispers convey this restriction, at most only ever five short words long, but often only ...

Our souls set ablaze Different times in different ways Pyre tipped, next is lit How can you want this? "'I have been aflame for years'" A blaze in the dark Soulfire cruelest fate Made more kind when it is shared When a brother dared Is destruction worse? Has my soul not considered Such an abrupt end? There is no escape Grave dug up, coffin pulled out We are not alone. Can minds be reframed? Fireplaces in winter? Bonfires on the beach? Let's agree on this: Though the spark will not go out (W/E) can't take much more So strike the matches Let the written word remain Phoenixes to chain

I awake with a calmness still lingering inside and out. I feel it in my room, and on my walk to Hope's room it permeates the halls. It is the calm of the week before Christmas when all the gifts are already under the tree and you're celebrating at your in-laws; it is the calm sound of ocean waves as you're falling asleep under a big umbrella on the beach; it is the calm of eep taking its sweet time sinking in, with the promise whispered in every infinitesimal crevice that it will never leave again. Without effort and fully present I count every step to Hope's door, today known by heart. When I arrive I realize I have neglected to say a single thing, but no matter, there is a kind of electrifying spark to a flame that you know will not burn you. I knock on the door and Hope flings it open with a rage yet one that is somehow already partially restrained, like an inferno held in a slipknot cage, ready to come undone at the slightest hint of a threat. This shift in perspect...

Mercury rising The flame in my soul unflagged The fireplace cracks What is it you see? I know the curtain opens After the headshot Tell me your stories What is it you see me do On the broken road? Do our realms align? Both walking same cobblestones Despite space between? And in terms of time We all choose how to spend it When all cards are down I call you brother Certainly presumptuous But my eyes shine true Spark on blue(green?) waters Nothing but persistent hue Glad to have been seen I've my suspicions But for now sail changing tides Following your lead

I am still examining the penny in my hand when Hope flings open the door; I have never seen her so off center, it looks almost as though a bead of sweat is dripping from her brow. She steps back upon seeing someone at her door, but breathes deeply when she sees it is me. All at once she feels collected again but now just a little... lighter? It's hard to describe, nothing particularly physical or obvious here, just a sense slightly different than before. "I said I would be back tomorrow!" She opens her mouth immediately as if to respond but then pauses, eyes darting up and left, and then down at the penny I am still mindlessly holding in my palm between us. Her eyes then lock onto the penny like prey and she bites her tongue. She now locks eyes with me as if to convey the importance of this moment, and slowly opens her door fully as she asks "Can I see it?" She extends one hand out toward me slowly, noticeably at the same pace the door opens. Directly behind her...

I wake with a chill, an ambulatory dream suddenly forgotten, though my room feels altered. I feel an echo of another night not long since past, with books both strewn about and carefully laid upon my floor. I shake it off though, as I remember that today is our day to wander the halls! With swift preparation I ready myself, but leave my room in disarray; there will be time to clean it later. Ready for what may come, I open my door. Time slows as the door swings both in, as I pull, and out all at once, as if splitting in two at the source code. My jaw drops as I find myself staring Hope face to face. As her version of the door opens, I see her room just behind her, and see her looking into mine. Her jaw drops as well, and a thought saturated moment passes as we both try to comprehend what is going on. I do my best to look cool, in an attempt to hide my obvious confusion; Hope does her best to look calm, fighting back instincts of rage at apparent intrusion. Finally, I break the silence,...

I awake with Hope on my mind. These adventures of ours have been a blessing, a true light in lingering darkness. I waste little time, quickly getting ready and feeding my rat. I rest my eyes for a second on the note she gave me, pocket my kazoo, and head out the door. The Christmas lights illuminate my steps, and decorations line the corridors. "What an amazing change already!" I marvel, now knowing the way nearly by heart. Well lit now to be sure, the halls still feel a bit quiet, so I stagger my voice, layering whistle and kazoo in nonsensical fashion, into an equally nonsense song I make up on the spot. The journey to her door feels shorter now, I wonder if that is my experience now folding time, or if in a place like this time folds itself due to our shared experience. Just like that I have arrived, but her door is not open. No matter, I think, now knocking without a second thought. "Hooope." I say with a smile in my voice. Seconds pass like hours but as my hear...