Cut To The Chase

I'm no longer chasing.

I'll lay still and feel the earth give way beneath me. 

Happily bury me! 

So the seeds of my intentions can grow. 

It is known...

Kindred souls tend my garden.

Patient souls assist it's growth.

Kind souls whisper sweet nothings and honorably intended sonnets.

Honest souls have permission to venture beyond, 

Beyond the thousands of sunshine roses to the murky swamps on the outskirts. 

Only one soul can fall down this ruby red canyon of valves and veins. 

With a fixer upper like me!

I'd gladly be their companion. 

Where we can finally breathe easy.