You come from the dry desert
And summer rains
You come from tree canopies
And sun rays
You come from wild flowers
You come from daylight
At midnight’s arctic
You come from the color of leaves
In the hills of fall
You come from deep oceans
And the wave’s call
You come from thunder rolls
And lightning strikes
You come from the new moon
In the night sky
Small talks to break the ice
First impression, surface nice.
But what lies there behind those eyes?
Who are you past your disguise?
What is setting that soul on fire?
What is keeping that heart inspired?
Not so interested in your threads;
A decorated shell you’ll one day shed.
What I want’s to be led inside,
To the dark corners of your mind.
To learn more about your being
And to see you through your seeing
Because what matters is how you tick
Under your shell and surface bullshit.
“‘My love, you are a river fed by many streams.
I bless all who have shaped you,
The lovers whose delights still dance patterns on your back,
Those who carved your channels deeper, broader, wider,
Whitewater and backwater lovers,
Swamp lovers, sun-warmed estuary lovers,
Lovers with surface tension,
Lovers like boulders,
Like ice forming and breaking,
Lovers that fill and spill with the tides.
I bless those who have taught you
and those who have pleased you,
and those who have hurt you,
All those who have made you who you are.’”