trusting in the waiting

progress is not pretty, piped frosting.

growth is not rehearsed ballets.

flowering is more like a rowboat with oars rubbing against its sides—the forward motion comes through friction.

another picture of this is the bow scraping against violin strings—the beautiful music coming through tension.

no one wants to watch a film without conflict. we all have housefire shipwrecks.
the question is, what do you do with them…allow the ruins to draw you to

surrender,

or harden your heart?

let’s take heart because the greatest beauty emerges from pitch dark cocoons.
so don’t waste your pit.

put your trust in the God who fills the clouds with water.

after all, the flowers won’t grow without downpour.

put your trust in God!

home is a blink away.

the stars are trying to get in

unlit fire pit

forgot spatula

no meat to flip

my tent

rips

wind flips paper leaves

dirt carpet

catches trees’

sheddings

and my eye

drips,

salty, droopy

 hands

wait, black hole

head,

 poison crowdsurf thoughts

dead

drowning in illusions

unsure

not safe

but my flesh tent will be

okay

because

the stars are trying to get in

they knocked yesterday,

looked at my failing

estate, said “yes.”

then dropped their stations, to shine within

me

so I’m still camping

on this site with the port-a-potty and the squirrels

my camp grill’s lit now though,

I didn’t do it.

the rocks started singing and I

couldn’t help but

join in.

now we’re clapping

my toes tapping

I can’t stop

smiling

inside

 the lantern’s lit

hot dogs roasting

the forest still smells

like forest,

my hair’s the same colour

but now

I know Love

Himself

heaven here

the stars laugh from

within

I don’t recognize myself

but I’m glad

 to divorce old

this is so much

better

my joy container:

the sky—wide and unmeasured by human

eye

I’m a band

a regular symphony,

forever

colliding

with

now