Year Gave Me

I was overseas at Beginning and
Year gave me.
Light. Year gave me light.
Many.
I am giving the light back, I am selfless and I
loved and I
cried less than I laughed yes and I
sang everyday and played new songs on piano and
sang to them and said
goodbye to some
and I grew
and I smiled and forgave.
I learned.
I felt it all.

Year said, somehow said:

'Melancholy sings deeply and low holding the light and you render yourself harden and warm and very particular. The light is beautiful when found. When found.'

I sing back on track when Light is orange.
Light exists. You are to create.

Seldom, Seth, I Write

It's not safe to assume anything when he renders me warm and selfless,

and I say, Seth,  it is not safe to assume the rain turns to yellow because of the sun.

No one ever agrees sunwise or from whatever makes you holy and this,

Seth, 

this makes me drop the white from the shell at the speed of molasses.

If two ever agree, the nectar that weaves from that beautiful share of breaths and silence is going to be yellow and orange maybe and warm, beautiful, tender and swift.

It's not safe to assume anything. 

Don't you dare be disloyal to whatever makes you blossom.

Safe alright.

Seldom I have strength to write about this but you weren't here yesterday.