To experience the love that keeps us standing
would be to experience that love
that makes us sit down
that pulses so deeply
it follows the vibrations
of the molten earth

To experience that love
would be to know
that even in the darkness of the abyss
and in the coolness of the dark
that not far below lies the pulsing core that warms your heart and washes salt
from your wounds

To experience that love
would be to know forgiveness
for the faceless father
for the mother who stole your daughter
for the lover that took a fork to your heart, took one bite and said that it was cold

To experience that love
would be to let the soft sunlight run through your veins as it breathes a warm butter to your muscles
and takes away the tin man within you
letting the walls of steel around your heart melt
into a mirror that reflects the love
That is within


Do you know they are there?

Miniature fairies wait, just on the inner edge of your ears, their tiny fingers as thin as a wispy strand of golden hair. Blowing dandelion darts at the bubbles of blue floating in, to catch the falling stories that pensively sing you to sleep. Collecting their shimmery mist in the milky white dew of their fingertips. Flying deeper within, bringing them into the folds of your mind, further than they would have traveled on their own.

Dropping them ever so carefully into the rivers of your dreams. Taking paint brushes of unicorn hair to the lulling waves and painting the dark with a purple-y silver that slivers itself into the trees and awakens the roots illuminating the mossy carpet beneath their toes.

The other fairies come out to play, tip-toe-dancing along the flowering buds [which have come out just in time to see the shooting stars]. With each subtle touch releasing xylophone vibrations glowing with electric waves rippling into everything beneath the night sky – giving light to the dark shadows that hold within them the underlying warmth that pulses softly through your heart.

Goodnight little one. Sweet dreams.