they create the most beautiful stories

intrigue, captivating consuming lift off from reality

but that’s the thing with writers, sometimes

discerning truth from fiction


then she looked at the clock and found it was far past midnight, but it hardly mattered

she had never felt so alive

because that’s what happens when you’re in love with your life

time is irrelevant, when every moment is lovely

broken hearts are beautiful to me

i want to hold them close, wrap them up in silk, softly

they remind me how human we are,

of the innocence and beauty in this world

because if your heart can be broken, you have one

tender and still beating, if only faintly

pen in hand, head full of thoughts, churning questions desperate to be worked out through ink onto leather bound pages

reaching forward– suddenly nothing

… the paper remains blank, still

calmy void of meaning, from their white faces they laugh at her reasonings and uncertainty

in silence were the very answers she sought

driving aged and winding dirt roads as the summer sun sets, crickets and coyotes in the distance, windows down

standing on a mountain top, those beautiful jagged peaked Selkirks

the smell of fresh mountain air, mingled with damp cedar and pine in the gentle rain

in these spaces i find peace, rest, a familiarity that runs deep

and in every day places still unfamiliar, 

in solitary moments, 

i miss you

we all feel disconnected and lonely sometimes, and think that no one understand us or how we feel in that moment 

i wonder really how much of that is pure perception 

because there are days when i stumble across something so simple or perhaps beautifully written that perfectly describes exactly how i’ve felt

and days when i’ve stared surprised over my coffee mug to a complete strangers story with thoughts of “me too”

how it is that a perfect stranger could ever know my heart so well

and i think it’s a beautiful thing, these cords that run through us all connecting humanity like a giant tapestry 

we are not so different, you and i

we all are made of the same flesh and blood, created in the same image

sometimes seeing that is a simple choice 

📷 google

sometimes you just want to get on a plane and go 

but instead you stay 

because in the staying is where reality happens, in the hard of everyday, where heart and healing meet 

you know you’d miss it too much, anyway 

and also if following your heart means anything after all,

 you stay