...patient, sacrificial, and jealous it is not. It is everything that I am not. I've heard it makes a hero of a common man. It fascinates me how it seems that everyone except me understands that. I've failed numerous times to understand how anyone except me would have no hesitation to excavate with their bare hands the ticking time bomb (the chimes of wedding bells often sound so to me) the promise: to love, adore, honor and to cherish without conditions another soul till our bodies give way to provide escape for our souls is, without any fear that it might explode before it is too late for it to be disarmed. There is nothing super about the powers I have, but I'm learning that there is everything super about the powers of love, and I'm learning to let go of my shields, to take the armors off (they are too heavy anyways) and march unguarded, if ever the need arises towards the battlefield in defense of love.

I sometimes wonder what Stevie sees. I wonder what colors he dreams in, what note his reality chooses to sing in. I wonder if he sees the melodies that come freely to him like flight to a dove in painted shades of blue or as bright as the golden sun. I wish I could see what he did that make him ask isn't she lovely? Lover, isn't it lovely, how this gift of love accompanied with an everlasting promise like the rainbow, a ribbon in the sky is signed, sealed, and delivered to us!? Forgive me, I am still a stranger on the shore of love, and though I know not where it is anymore, I too want to go home. I wonder if your arms will welcome me as I, for the last time, kiss lonely goodbye.

I stopped searching when I found you the way you glowed it was as if you had angels to surround you I'm not a stalker but i had to follow you around the town just so I can know more about you like, what is it about you that makes my heart skip a beat when i see you, my friends think that I'm insane, and they keep saying it'll be a feat to win you. so, I'll be on my feet, chasing. Slow down to catch my breath for a minute maybe and then, increase my pacing, I mean it! And you can bank on my words like the Chase in the corner of the streets of my eyelids cos see the first day i saw you, you left a mark and I swear, nothing can erase it There is gold in your eyes, and the way they spark is so beautiful. I'm sure that there is nothing that can replace it. Your smile would light up my world, when things would get dark and it's always there as if you had a permanent facelift Here is the key to my heart, you can take it. I remember nights in the park, laying on the grass, gazing at the stars. I even gave one of the stars your name cos it was the brightest. You are my pearl, and no other girl can compare in the slightest The kind of love we have is deep, See it's way deeper than the deep sea and it's no secret, like PDA it's out in the open everybody can see it i don't need EA cos I don't play games, well, except tag, and I really wanna be it I'm trying to catch up to you cause i want you to be her. The mother to my kids, the one I can kiss and cuddle with on those winter nights when I get so cold like (the habitat of) a polar bear. The one I can call my dear, my queen, to build castles together with with no fear. I'm a snowman, you're the sun, and I melt every time you are near Your presence makes my knees buckle, you make me chuckle especially when i take a peek at my wedding ring, and I promise to keep the vows we made, cause baby, you're my everything

Exercise: here is a map, point, to where love is Hint: love is. love is a city made entirely of bubbles built in the sky. Fact: most people try to touch it before it disappears Question: how do you locate a place that no longer belongs on a map? I don't know, I can't tell. I can't tell if I have been here before, but i like it here, it feels like somewhere I can lay my head, sleep and not worry whether they (whoever they are) will come to burn our city to the ground My heart is a fickle builder, it's always building sand castles that crumble far too soon but this city, of buildings with towers that ever point skyward, stands and refuses to crumble My point is this: it has not always been like this I could not always point. (I) still cannot point to the where or the when that was the start to this but I started to notice the way our bodies spoke in ways our mouths did not yet have a language for, how, we, with our hugs would linger a second or two longer than we would before as if to say: it's okay, it's okay, you can stay It seemed like there was a lot we were trying to say Say, for example, That night, when you let me touch Your hair Or rather when I did, at first Without permission, And then again After I asked what I didn't say was that my hands wanted to touch More than just Your hair what I didn't say was that I felt a certain kind of honor to run through my fingers individual strands of what happens to be the most noticeable thing about you, the only thing that most will ever get to know about you unless they choose to come a little closer I didn't really know much about you. You didn't really know much about me either. We've always seen each other from afar but we both chose to step a little closer We talked about your hair And the journey that it - much like you and I - has taken I listened. I heard I touched your earlobes and so we talked about your favorite color and your earrings Small, almost unnoticeable much like I imagine the world makes you feel sometimes When again it does, when you do, I'll offer to hold you in the palms of my hands My hands, though not entirely small, are still trying to find their place in this vast world, so it shouldn't be a surprise that they wandered to your thighs long after we had talked about our favorite parts of our bodies I suppose they wanted to feel what you felt when you, with so much pride, announced your thighs as one of yours My hands, oh my hands, they wanted to touch The rest of you My lips wanted to touch yours, and taste the many words we left unspoken even though we spoke for hours about things that mattered and things that frankly did not I don't know if it matters that at first I was afraid but there is still so much to touch on about our lives that Father time will have to allow us so, when that time comes, if that time comes, I want you to know how much it matters that I am no longer afraid to reach out and touch the rest of you - the parts that most won't notice, the parts you wouldn't dare share with anyone else I've spent my whole life chasing the wind, attempting to grasp something worth holding on to; something that's always been within reach I suppose it was always you

See, I never quite understood why certain words would recur in my poems, words like wings, fly, sky... ...until I met you And like the butterfly your name is it perches on the petals of my brain and remains there until it transforms itself into a sculptor and carves out of my wood face a shape that mimics the crescent of a moon ...Your name Your name is a descendant from ancestors of shapeshifters 'cause it has the capacity to light up my face whenever I hear or think about it, like when someone turns on a switch in a room saturated with darkness so heavy like a mother about to give birth or like the sky on a cloudy day, heavy with rain, and this rain is what will make the flowers to bloom again Your name... If I was told that I would never fly I would tell myself that I would at least try. I did. And like every little kid, Santa is my best friend and for me every day is Christmas. Last Christmas, one wish made it to the top of my list - wings, and last night, my journey to the sky started And just when my arms were getting tired I saw you, sitting elegantly on a flower you've made your home; the sun over-zealously casting all its light to reveal the radiance of the colors on your wings. It blinded me I do admit, that it was for this reason I fell almost See, I don't know much but I know this: that if this was to be a fairy-tale then every man on earth would be peasants and the lucky guy that gets to fall in love with a queen like you becomes a king. So, let me ask you this: Will you be to me what a crown is to a king what the stars are to a night sky what wings are to a butterfly And, what if I told you that my stomach is an ocean of cocoons with millions of butterflies inside waiting to escape, waiting to spread their wings and fly into the welcoming arms of the open sky?

Love is so complex that it baffles the simplest of minds, yet so simple enough but still the most complex of souls cannot unravel its puzzle. I don’t know much about love because my rational calculating mind finds it hard to comprehend and there is yet a kind of love that steeps down the slope of incomprehensibility It keeps playing tug of war with my heart, pulling me to join the other souls who are drowning in its ocean. And once in a while, I get pulled in but I fight to stay afloat take a deep breath, then swim against its ever-flowing tide in order to reach the shores of rationality where I think myself safe. But this kind of love does not play it safe, and it keeps pulling so it can close the gap created by the distance between this place where I stand, and the space that has the other end of the rope. The GAP between the letter A, which represents ALL SOULS and E, where he as a gap model walked the runway to close the gap between the runaway child and his Father. The kind of love that seeks to close the GAP I sometimes am tempted to believe is between me and my Father. The precious type of love that braces itself up to close the gap, like the braces in the mouth of my friend, Precious. Precious like a prosthetic leg that closes the gap between what remains of the amputated feet of a war hero and the ground where we all would fall flat on our faces, like when we were babies, learning to take our first steps attempting to reach a table but can’t quite reach it but Mom, being the hero she is quickly drawing the table nearer to bridge the gap created by the distance between the place where we stand and the table. The doubts I feel in my mind are real like how to most, this surreal kind of love can feel so real but still I question if it is just a fable I find it hard to accept that this model actually bridged the GAP when he paraded himself on the runway so we could all freely move from point A to hE, to HE who is esteemed as perfection, at whose feet ALL SOULS who believe STAND, once and for ALL He made himself an open show, withstanding jeers and sneers, no standing ovation, it’s beyond my understanding what could have possible inspire him certainly not the monetary profit cos if it was him the prophet was actually speaking about he had “no beauty that we should desire him” But since no one was up to the task he became the brand ambassador for the brand we loved the most - GAP and modeled it fashionably well Surpassing Adidas in the number of stripes he had, his fashion statement was loud and clear It is finished, he declared, as he walked off the runway the check mark on his Nike shoes resounding in echoes, a reminder for us all that we can now cross off everything on our to-do list. But still, I find it hard to accept but I can’t help but ask myself “what if he really did bridge the GAP?” Love is so complex that it baffles the simplest of minds, yet so simple enough but still the most complex of souls cannot unravel its puzzle. I don’t know much about love because my rational calculating mind finds it hard to comprehend and there is yet a kind of love that steeps down the slope of incomprehensibility: aGAPe

We are tuned to give away props to those who give a way to us, but when what we give away’s not appreciated or reciprocated is when the giveaway stops. But I'll suggest that we should give away stops, like, STOP. Here’s a stop for you, wrapped and enclosed in a box and no, I did not forget the ribbon, it's for you to stop and enjoy life for a minute, STOP and take a look at the sky on a cold night, how for comfort the sky wraps itself in a blanket of stars STOP and take a look at the colors displayed on the wings of a butterfly STOP, like, when you approach a stoplight and you don't want to stop, right? I know, I know the light is not yet red, but it’s almost though. I know, I know you can still make it if you just press the accelerator a little more, but STOP. Let the cars in the other lanes pass you by, don't be in such a hurry. I mean we should give away stops like: This should put a stop to your pain. A stop like: Stop trying to think about what others might be thinking that you're thinking that they're thinking that you're thinking that they're thinking. . . because just like this sentence, it just complicates things, so STOP and think about the ones you love and the ones who love you, STOP, and reflect on the legacies left by the ones you lost and say bye. Hop in your car, drive away to a solitary place where you can be alone with your thoughts And never forget that your past memories are kind of like your old parents you just don't leave them, but you revisit them over and over, and over and over, and. . . so, STOP! See, I hate to stop as well but I must. And if I had an extra stop, I would give it away. And now, let’s just pretend that I have a stop watch, because it will soon tell me any moment from now that I have to STOP. And so, with the little time I've got before my time is up, I'll say this: a lot of things happen, even when you stop!