tall are the roots

If we know it boils
we also can hush
It still again.
If your heart
Has once been full
And boundless
It will always be free
And endless possibilities
Couldn’t possibly
Be reduced to
A handful of options.
Subconscious
Is your gut
And your gut well
That’s a synonym for
Guardian
Or of angel.
Or of both.
To be both.
I am but I also am not
And that is the shape of my silhouette.
That is the sound of my soul.
I’m trynna learn to ride for myself
Without conditions.
Unrehearsed. I’ve heard
Balance is key.
But unbalanced feels more like me
This body made from star crossed lovers
Desperately trying to live together
Even if dammed in destiny to die
Side by side.
Sometimes they make me split myself into sides
Always seem to be stuck within the inside of a binary
Forget I am spilling.
Always an overflow
A gush.
The single root that grows in the dark
In the unwatered soils
In the unwanted plains.
How long has hope lived inside lungs?
Long enough to think it is home?
Long enough to watch how light that exists.
As if darkness isn’t what allows light to exist.
Like illumination doesn’t rely on a black enough backdrop
A deep enough fall.
It won’t get easier with the lights on
But in the light there is liberation.
Patiently we listen for the
Bubbles to pop into a stillness.
Becomes more whole in the settle.
Victories and vices are closer than you think
Growth smells like sea salt
left on oven tops.
Where do you wander to be everything you haven’t yet?
I am stumbling into myself
Met more of me in the silence
Than I looked for in the noise.