What is in this man?

God, first and foremost.

Love, always.

Purpose abound by grace.

Honest eyes and one-sided smiles.

Joy in the realization of self.

A desire for new policies,

Often mistaken for rebellion.

A thousand waterfalls,

The boy who always was.

What is in this man?

The gunshot before a thousand false starts thus far.

I return once more praying this will be the last,

But grace has it that we start over

So inevitably I’ll be back but

today, today here it is.

After a day of hard work,

all of which could be anything from sweating over a hot stove,

To sweating over a warm body

Passionate as fuck at both

I sit on the edge of my queen-sized mattress

Slightly slouched, back facing a full-ish moon

Staring at a corner in my room

Memorialized by a swollen stream,

falling and fallen leaves.

This man, an otherwise wrecking ball —

Softened by his resemblance to waterfalls,

A giver, a never-ending stream