A love letter to my soul that I am home.

I am getting better now that I am constantly here in the present moment writing to myself,

and hanging onto every word as if I will lose myself,

or whatever it is about the pen always scraping the paper.

No doubt that even when the ink runs dry inside this pen of mine,

you can never take away the fact that the pen still exists even when it cannot do anything other than scratching the space between the lines.

That’s how I write myself until I’m home in this soul of mine.

I am happy you are still with me after all this time.

From the morning to the evening,

They told me I should find you everywhere that I am not.

This time you and I will climb around every rock & stone we wish to pursue.

Even when I throw the rock far away into the water,

I’ll not miss that stone because I know that it touched me in a way that even though it’s gone,

I’ll close my eyes and remind myself that every moment is just a moment in time with things and people,

And I might toss the rock up and down in my palm,

But eventually I will let go of those minerals because the earth is weeping for it's soil to be back to its grounding space.

Whether the earth tosses its grain from forest to the sky,

Or allow it to be stuck down deep below the sea,

Whatever we cannot see, I know that I am home in this sweet soul of mine.

Finally.