Be with those who help your being.
Don’t sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don’t try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it’s too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?
By Rumi
Untitled
Your lover is not your lover
if the touch of their finger tip leaves black holes in your celestial skin.
Your friend is a stranger
if their ear is cavernous when you seek their counsel.
Would you willingly drink water laced with arsenic?
How about pudding cloaking rusted razor thumb tacks?
Does that appeal to your palate?
Why then do we voluntarily involve ourselves with the volatile,
men that only seek to manipulate and use?
We enable those that are unable to fulfill us,
welcoming self-destruction and its seduction.
You’ve experienced the love that bruises and leaves open wounds.
You’ve memorized that sonnet of sorrow and know it like the front of your hand.
Cross over in to the beautiful.
Embrace those that brace you
when your knees are weakened by life’s brutal blows.
Treat negativity like dandy lions and blow them in to eternity’s field.
You deserve more than the less you allow.
by Dorian “Paul D” Rogers
