Heres Estrella

More Stars than There are

Tag: love

Work

 

“I can change,
I can change,
  I can change—

If it helps you 

to Fall in Love.”

 

 

No Substitute

a crisp electronica tune for people from both worlds today
P.S. don’t forget to UP the volume.

A New Friend

                                             a mutual understanding

A Bond Invincible

bring sets of armor and gear,
crates of nourishment and safety nets
to places barren, chaotic, or unforgiving,
and hope that one shall survive.

one could bring it all,
yet the Only thing
that does not rot, erode,
or become molded over
amidst the commotions
of  endless Wilderness,
remains a True Love’s
Touch.

Carnivores in Love

they Consume and Devour,
with innocent eyes,
Tragically without hindsight.

Ruinous tracks
left behind, yet
they know not
What they do—

Alas, cared for and get by they will,
For those who Love them
love to Live,
to love, and
to Embrace suffer.

Return of Ideals

even in utter chaos, we must savor these small, isolated, and precious instances

 

Sunday Love Solemnized

Trials in A Hot Spell

Bolts of Lightning,
In shivering thuds
So tumultuous,
Violently
Shook the roof above—

Ceilings once
so sure and secure,
Now rendered ragged,
powerless and brittle.

your small world
Disturbed;
Darkness seized, and
False Light interrupted.

A Calling
So clear—

For reevaluation;
to break away from
self-afflicting routines,

Yet the mind,
feeble and deprived of
Purpose,

Slacks,
Missing
Old Sins—

Once the rain
Subsides, along will fade
Memories of
this most Intimate
and Loud
Reminder…

But Resist
We must,
Goodness and Love
take Discipline,

We Must refrain,
Hold ourselves
From the perpetual
Hollows.

Write it all down!
So that after
this gentle humidity
recedes,

The Will
Remembers
to Fight,
to Learn,
to Crawl,
and to eventually Walk

Under the boiling Sun.

Standing Upright,
We each create
Testaments of true Heart
and Devotion—

Who shall survive
Past our time
In the blistering trials of
Hot Spells.

 

Compassion Only

“A heart does not break; it goes on beating.” 

—Dr. Joe Gallenberger.

She Washes My Feet

She looks
In dark amber,
Bright eyes—

Watery,
unclouded
Windows—

from them
hidden Purities
of a gray world
are reflected.

No
Heavenly Saint,

But she thanks
for the slightest things,
And Virtues
does she audaciously
Address,

that because of Her,
My feet are rinsed
Ever clean.