Dear Late nights, and sweets dreams,

How are you, soft simple thoughts? Does your mind teem with monstrous fears, and does your simple peace cover deep pain? Sweet wiling words do you reach for help, or is there a voice holding you far from us? Does your softness stem from a jagged rose that grows deeply outward? Oh, my sweet lullaby, singing sweet songs, Do you need a rest? Does your kind heart ache, in rhythm to a new voice? My candy coated memory, do you need my hand, can I help ease these troubled thoughts? How often I must pause upon viewing such gentle perfection, and modest grace, to be overtaken by such warmth. I can feel so deeply the gentle unveiling of treasure I've forgotten so long ago. Your sweet melodic sound, my holy temptation, that lingers in my thoughts. I forget the cold flurries, and darkened seas, my mind's ocean now a clear beautiful beach, filled with tropical flowers in early bloom. My dear daydream, do you recognize the seeds of compassion from which you have sewn? The budding blooms that have broken throw brittle bones and scarred skin, and scattered themselves about? Can you hear the sounds of gentle waves crashing along gentle glittering sands, bringing with life and beauty? My perfect memory, do you fear the feeling of calmness, or do you fear the distance from reality spreading lives of ‘perfection never lasting’? Do simple promises of forever cause ripples within your troubled seas? May I ask you my graceful light, to let in the sun, and take upon yourself a new garden? To allow my damaged hands a chance to help pull those weeds from the dry brittle dirt, and to slowly and patiently plant a new seed? To let blossom unto you the calmness from which has entered my soul through your perfect tender words? How beautiful could the flowers of a partnered garden be? May I spark within you, a new voice, a new idea, and speak unto you new words beyond the safety of habit? My swift and subtle breeze, do you see into yourself with the same gentle eyes as I? Can you my gentle sky, see the gentle breeze blowing through a gentle forest,, and the deepness of cliffs sheltering over the bluest waters of pure diamond? Do your soft gentle eyes lay upon yourself as compassionately as they do mine? I speak unto you, that if you read between the glades of grass and listen unto the earth, you may hear from my soul an honest truth left buried and words. My gardener, his sweet gentle hands have blessed the soil of my mind, with his compassion and empathy, sewing a seed of trust, and exemption. My caretaker and friend, how his voice sends rippling melodies along my sky's calming the waves and dark nights, lingering forever in magical splendor. Allow me if I may, to give back this gold, and to drop to the rich soils, and help tend to his soil. To speak unto the wind, and watch as a soft moldy carries its way and spreads across the land. Let me, if I may, caress and remove the dark weeds that have made his mind home, and to plant a new seed, and to tenderly care until they blossom and to stay and watch over them so that they always feel safely loved. Dear love, daydream, late night sigh, and blessed being, thank you, for every blessing you kindly gifted unto me, and thank you for allowing me such peace. 

Yours,