Falling into Silence is a collection of poetry, prose, and photography that observes a changing world, the darkness it holds, and the light that will surely shine through. To be released in 2021.

anyone who claims to be the one you should follow to find the light is a lie because if they knew the truth they would understand the flame that illuminates the way already lies within.

give a name to your anger. then give it a reason. scarce are the times we will find the focus enough for the two to ever line up. crooked are the ways we deceive ourselves. simple are the ways the mirror reflects.

at the center of our chests, we can feel the murmuring of all the sorrow we have ever suffered, all the loss we have ever endured, and the rattles of our dying desires. but there also rests all the fire to burn them away to ash, torch an unforgiving blaze, and shine infinitely brighter than any star in the night’s sky.

may caution always meet us at the crest of our aspirations. for as radiant as they are, they can obscure those small moments of magic moving through us right now. myopic eyes mesmerized by the vast horizon of an alluring future can never take witness to all that scintillates before them. each uncelebrated dazzle is only met with a desire for something more. and there is not a wind in the sky that will elevate the flight, nor a vision willing to unveil itself, to the crippling blindness of such ingratitude.

if we should come to lay down our arms and the divine gifts that we prayed for should be placed into the whole of our open palms, who will we become? who will be our master? what will we do with what we have been given? there is no psalm to sing for god’s attention if we are only to become the inglorious monster whose ugliness has been witnessed too often by this world. and if this should be the answer, then we must unravel the ties our ravenous fingers so that we may settle into the silence, with closed eyes and crossed legs, to triumph the battle that needs no hands.

there is a villain in every story. sometimes it is us. sometimes it is them. and sometimes it is a reckless brush of black painted upon a bleeding canvas to deceive ourselves from the shades of gray.

it is not on a rare occasion when the sun is obscured by the clouds beyond the mist of falling rain or hidden in corners within the cosmos where none can see. when the moon takes center stage and the fireflies take a bow. but never does it stop spinning. never does it stop shining. never does it cease to share its warmth with the world. burgeoning with a flame that can burn the heavens and healing rays that can enliven the soil, how benevolent it is for one who could be so brutal choose to serve so quietly humble.

what power does a blade have to sever the air? a rabid ego may come to bark, but never can it bite at your silence.

silence may be still for a time, but never is it stagnant. it is a most disciplined patience. a clear, calculated, and commanding force of knowing when to speak and what to say. when such lips choose to unfurl themselves, they will carry with them the colossal weight of contemplation and their words will require nothing more than the ripples of a whisper to crash mountains into the sea.

such are the ways of this life that the ones we hold most dear can be gone in an instant. and for however brief the days, weeks, months, or years that we shared with them, they leave an imprint on our soul that is so indelible it forever changes who we are, and who we will become, and what makes us laugh, and what brings us to silence. when we try to remember who we once were before we ever came to love them, there comes a profound realization that we are now a stranger to ourselves. the tears shed from this understanding are often the saddest ones of them all. and while there is no promise that we will ever be purged of this pain, held high before us, with these scars now stitched together as our new skin, is the reminder that we once loved and the challenge to love again.