Photo taken in Northeast Portland, Oregon — at sunrise.

Monday, June 27, 2022

Through the purest of her child-lit eyes,

Is a gaping tunnel into an abyss—

…Joy’s prize.

Though fear of clarity subside,

Honesty comes at ease,

Leaving us at no surprise.

A replenishing synergy,

Fluid and living free,

It’s scary but hey—

She see’s me.

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What an appreciative cheek,

So soft I can bon appetite.

Her third eye’s on me,

Awaiting my faith,

Expecting my leap.

But some things must leak,

Not flood love’s valleys.

So we sit and receive,

An exchange rising peace.

Gaze and perceive,

Unwritten divine reads.

Speak and proceed,

As spiritual beings,

Who jumps at the need,

…wait, that’s rushing,

But that’s that damn thing,

Pushing at me,

…suggesting I lead.

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From the blushing cherry, and blossoming trees,

You’ve guided so meek, childlike and free.

Your energy speaks—I listen through he,

Who changes through you,

In front of you,

Like repining fruits,

And sun rising views.

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This poem’s over due,

But all of my truth,

And risings with you…

-Budd