Death Makes Sweet Memories of Us All

A poem of surrender

At your feet, I cry
Let me serve you!
To thine own self be true — I pray
Tears replenish the edges of your ancient well

My brokeness flows into the depths
I see myself inside the flames
A perfect reflection of love and pain
Everything I am, everything I’m not

Home is an illusion when it appears beyond
I draw back my arrow — aiming low
At the last moment, I release it heavenwards
Death makes sweet memories of us all

I always choose the most difficult path. Some of us are wired to believe things worth having must be fought for.

So, when we meet someone who doesn't fight, it's a shock, especially if the thing worth fighting for is you.

Lest we forget, another's faults do not lay within our capacity to behold.

In the eyes of spirit, we are all symbols of each other. Relationships are a contract to gaze into the mirror at one another.

All humans have limitations they place on themselves. But you have the choice to move forward or stay behind — keep…