golden pothos

she spreads her beauty 

like a plant experiencing growth

expanding through her environment

angelic in shape, gracious in form 

existence is purified in her presence

air filled with the scent of her essence

effervescence in every atom 

unaware of her immense impact

she radiates persistence 

constantly developing, evolving 

light emanates from her vibrancy 

her expressions are rich with color

her design is raw elegance 

she is pure

complex yet simplistic 

an organic balance to her character 

like photosynthesis, 

she generates an invigorating energy 

the process is trusted 

inspiration to grow into something more

a maturation of sorts

as time passes by,

she hangs her wilted flowers with a fragile insecurity 

yet they still are on display so magnificently 

it takes so much courage to do so

there’s a gentleness in her actions 

serenity is in the touch of her anatomy 

admiration for her divine creation 

a heavenly gift

Angel’s Ivy

circle vs. square

often I lay in silence
thoughts smoldering in uncertainty
there's an emptiness I struggle to fill
attempts are made at finding fulfillment
but I always find myself falling short
it's a consuming feeling
the process of continuously faltering
trying to be better than you once were
more times than not
seems like a kite in a lightning storm
never stood a chance

I ask myself
question after question
striving to find an answer to any one
wanting to find purpose
but mostly finding failure
doubt discovered
self-resentment flourishing
yet I am here
still continuously faltering
because that's how it goes

we spend so much time
in search of our purpose
some never find it
some know what it is from the start
others tell you what it is
others say they don't know
maybe it's meant to be that way

often I lay in silence
eyes closed, mind open
and in that silence
I hear all my mishaps
I see all my failures
I feel all my pain

but there's one thing that silence brings
something just as crucial:
acceptance of self.
though it's not always easy
insecurity rings loudly
that's a battle that is vital
that fight is filled with something special––
purpose

the burden

there’s a burden 

that lies on me, heavily 

or is it a twisted blessing?

i don’t really know

it’s like that feeling 

of struggling to keep 

your eyelids open 

on a night you’re running on fumes

the tank is depleted

your eyes are on fire 

yet something tells you 

to keep them 

from closing 

there’s something special 

about that moment

on one hand 

you discover 

what your will is like

the strength to fight it

on the other

sometimes you fail

the lids close

defeat, in a form

but rest is also victory 

maybe the burden isn’t that bad

the question is,

what is the burden? 

good question

i’m finding out day-by-day

a little bit

sometimes i forget

the cycle of growth 

just maybe