“We are all blood. We are all the river.

We are breath. We are air.

We are ugly. We are beauty.

We are life. We are God. “

“Poetry is a companion that never quits.”

A Photo Essay

Thoughts on life, death, and wisdom-weaving. Originally composed in September 2022.

“Maybe, one day in the future, I will be seated with a soft belly and soft limbs remembering how I played with time when my desire would eat me alive. And I will likely laugh a laugh one laughs when they know themselves too well.”

“As for now, I am in practice of conscious storytelling. It requires space from me, and because my heart speaks to me with a new timbre, I cannot ignore the call. “

“What does transmutation mean, you ask? […] It is to remain rooted while you die and rise again.”

“I can't help but cling to the heat like I'm clinging to mama and the warmth of her heart; at times a gentle radiation of love, at times a fire that obliterates toxicity and purifies matter into love itself, at times a scorching […] that can destroy life. I'm attracted to it all.”

“Writing is another sense altogether.”

“The inner world was calling for my softness — my surrender. My old methods of constant pushing and doing were no longer effective. My process and practice of expression had shifted.”

“Guilt is such a burden. It eats me up inside and spits me back out, slyly grinning like it's got a hold of me.”

A journey through the astral realm…