To become more.

Inside of every one of us, there are oceans.

There's enough blood to create tsunamis and our hearts

beat enough times each day to

paint skies pink and grass purple, and it's

enough to

keep us alive but not enough to keep us living.

I Wish There Was An On-looker Who Believed

If you stop to think,

for a moment at most,

about the way rain fell on black pavement...

It splashes and spritzes out from underneath the

fat droplets

It gets caught in your eyelashes, weighing your

lively eyes down.

You run towards the car across the pavement in a sparkly

blue dress, the most beautiful princess.

Then, you jog.

Then you walk.

Then you stand.

and you stand.

just standing.

Looking to the sky, drops fall flat on your face,

caress your cheek bones,

mingle in your hair.

As cautious as a toddler, hesitant as the first kiss,

you spread your arms.

You don't know how, but somehow, someway,

you're spinning.

You are still looking at the sky, arms flung wide,

rain beats down on your smiling face

and not for one moment, one moment at all,

do you dare close your mouth; pull back that toothy grin.

The rain tastes too good, tastes too sweet to fight it.

Your perfect curls become weighed down, hairspray

runs away.

Slowly, frizzes start popping up, but you don't care one

bit at all.

It's slicked back,

mascara slides down,

but you're beautiful.

Butterflies aren't supposed to fly in the rain,

you heard,

maybe it makes their wings too sore,

but you swear to God you saw one.

It flapped and flapped and you could

tell it was struggling, keeping from drowning,

but still graceful as a swan,

pretty as a petal.

And you thought,

"I've finally found what I want to be."

A car door clicks, and broken from your trance,

you stand straight up,

dress hanging down, sopping wet,

no makeup to be found.

He runs over, umbrella in left,

holds out his right.

"Take it," he says, coaxing you along.

You think, seconds feel like hours and

minutes feel like days.

You don't know why, but for right now,

you're perfectly fine.

You take another look up, his eyes stay still

on your face, searching in the most loving way,

trying to see your thoughts.

"I want to be a butterfly," you said.

"You can."

In that moment he abandoned all hope of reasoning,

all hope of making it back home,

so he shouted to the driver,

"Sir, could you please turn the music up; the

headlights on?"

He dropped the umbrella, the rain fell harder.

He took her left hand, pressed it to her lips,

and almost died.

For the first time,

for the first time ever,

you felt beautiful.

And he saw that.

For the first time,

the first time ever,

you felt free.

just free.

If you stop to think,

for a moment at most,

about the way rain fell on black pavement,

I found that the you's are me's and

the he's are you's and I want nothing more

to be a butterfly in the rain,

and unspoken beauty,

a hushed secret,

with you.

Just another onlooker,

but one who actually believed.

Welcome To The Planet.

The grass tickles my nose as

I roll around in it.

It's green and it's cool, and I like the

way that it feels in my hair.

The sky looks blue as

it fills my eyes.

I look around and it's bright and beautiful,

and I like the way it feels in my soul.

The pavement scrapes my feet as

I walk barefoot across it.

It's good and fun, and it doesn't even

hurt, it feels like life.

Your eyes feel like home as

I look to heaven.

It's home and it's home, and there's no

other word to describe it but home.

Here's to the hurt and to the pain and to the way it rains and looks like it will never stop because now I know that every lightning bolt I've ever witnessed and every thunder boom that has ever shaken my spirit has a beautiful story tied around it's wrist.

Here's to the fact that I gave up on time healing wounds and to losing my way and to the way it feels when you're suddenly placed smack in the middle of an oncoming train with nowhere to run to because now I know that trains don't want to hurt me, they just want to see how high I can jump to get away.

Here's to you and to your spirit and your soul. Here's to the hum of the universe. Here's to God or whoever runs this crazy place we call home. Here's to the hurricanes and the floods. The tornados and the cyclones. Here's to that place that we reach every once in a while that we feel we can never get past. Here's to Hope whispering "one more time."

Here's to me.

Here's to you.

Here's to that feeling that for the first time in my life, I feel free and crazy and careless, but never reckless. Here's to knowing that things are good, but they can get better. Here's to saving your fork for dessert, because I've heard that the chocolate cake is delicious.