pixelized posturing

It's silly

To see myself splaid

In pixelized

Times

New Roman.

To see

The things

That so over

Took

Me;

Which do I believe

Now;

Which seem like silly

Lil

Things?

I get it now.

The grasping

Admist growing

The gasping

That caused the going.

But I still stand by

That which is underneath;

That which is layered;

That which was hidden

Even from me.

Maybe I am

And always was

Delusional.

But my soul knew you

When I first met you

And I had nothing

To help me teem through

What that meant to me.

You weren't the only soft eyes

That my youthful fragility pined;

When you stood your ground even

I was given signs

Of the one who called me forth

To the maple lined woods.

But it is different-- 

the core,

The crux.

But you are different--

The creative,

The compassionate. 

And you are the same--

The candance of characters;

The congealing of quirks.

"If after 3 years, you come back...

And it's just the same.."

Dad said. 

When did he say that?

Why? About what?

"You don't have to do that;

Make yourself lose;

I know because I do it too."

When did dad say that?

Why? About whom?

What if it's 7 years,

Oh father,

And what if admitting defeat

Is what closes the wound(womb)? 

& I didn't have anything 

To help me teem through

What it meant when I found the words

"I didn't want you

Out of my life--

I wanted me

Out of yours."

I had pulled and picked apart

That which was sacred

That which was special

Because I was trying to make this something

It didn't really want to be;

But I had nothing back then

To help me teem.

The only love stories we are told

We are sold

In children's book and DVD's

Was what I tried to shrink wrap you into;

Was how I tried to understand

That which was too big

For me

As a teen,

As a tween,

As 23,

To really understand.

& Maybe I am

And always will be

Delusional.

But I swear to the old one

And all the false gods

That there is you

In a part of me.

A stone cleft

And left

By the roadside

For some wanderer to pick up

& Say,

"Ohhh, shiny"

And I don't know

If it's spicy psychology

Or the trauma inside of me

But after 7 years of silence

Just hearing you speak

In pixels on the dark page

Made me know I instantly

I still want you on my team;

I still want to know more of you

That I might know more of me.

You had no idea

The comfort I cradled

In that simple

Forty-two.

No idea

The release of fear

& Finding of faith

When I went to write back

And I was greeted upon entry

With "Don't Panic--#42"

It's silly.

It's stupid.

It shouldn't seem like something;

Because it's not anything,

But these little things

With a thousand others

Are supporting me

Saying,

"Go find your brother;

Go forth and don't bother

To worry of broader

Things

Just now;

Remember who you are

Oh wayfinder

As reflected

In your souls sibling--

The wanderer.

"Go find your broker;

Go forth & build boarders

It's time to work towards bigger

Things

Right now;

Reimagine who you are 

Oh wayfinder

As refracted,

your soul seeking--

The wanderer."

I don't know

Enough

Of all of you

In the now

Of this moment

In the multiverse

But I am trusting

By the bracing of my bones

That you are a component

Of this dream I am building;

Of my deeper understandings

Of my hopes & home.

Re-wilding seems just your thing

And that

It's what I'm

Calling in;

What my calling is;

I'll tell you all about it

Over a game of cards

Or a fire in the woods;

I'll tell you all about it

If you ask me,

Oh, that you would!

"Oh, it's balanced now 

that sister went to rest with brother... 

Boulder is getting tired now...

he's standing tall, in Reds & Orange; 

I'm so god damn proud of you..."

And I blew you away--

In all your valiant strength--

Trusting the work

You're doing

In this world;

Trusting

By faith

In fortitude of friendships

That the path of the wayfinder

Will cross that of the wanderer;

And in crossways

Are so much potential;

So much possiblity;

Crossways are made of pacts, 

and plans, 

and signs.

It's silly

To see myself explaining

In pixelized

Times

New Roman

My faith in the crossways;

My hopes of the forests;

My dreams of the wildings;

And the knowing

In my bones

That you will be there

With dirty, rough hands

That match mine

When our eyes begin to wrinkle

And our strands begin to gray;

I believe

You will be there

To build with me;

That you will be 

An important and integral part

Of the world I'm building;

Of the dreams being planned.

I will be patient;

I will be poised;

I will be persistent

In my pursuit of knowing

All of you

The way I was meant to;

The way your souls sister

Saw 

When she met you.

It's silly

I'm crazy

It's illogical

But so is the vacant echo

Of 42

To the question

Of the purpose of the universe;

The purpose

Of me & you.