the edges of myself

words, words, words

this is for me.

a necessary part of my process

this singular narration

a weaving of words to give

birth to these feelings

welling within– unnecessarily contained.

The worlds of trust you are teaching

with your reticence and fear

are miraculous– though not without

bruises and bumps– sometimes maybe

even a little blood.

i know no other way to exist besides my own

an overflowing heart– whose capacity has

barely been tested.

My willingness to give at times frightening–

but if met with trust, the potential is

impossible to fathom– worlds beyond what we

can conceive.

We are massive– my yin and your yang

sorting words to give value to something

far surpassing any human constructs.

Placing my feet, one in front of the

other– eyes closed– settled back into that

support that none other than the

universe  can offer.

heart open, always open.

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