it's not going to change your life if you're looking for it to be life-changing
those things happen when
you least expect it
or you actively seek change.
passively hoping you've found it, that it'll do the work
doesn't work.
you can't just sit around and wait for your life to change.
it'll just pass you by instead.

drenched in sunlight, but still your pale, milky white
your cold initially bites but is soon followed by warmth
cool our blood, comfort our covered skin
blanket our earth for as long as you can
soon you'll no longer surround our knees
but gliding in light waves, approach our ankles
cutting a path through blades of yellowed grass
first you trickle, then gain speed
first you move alone, then en masse
start as a stream, slowly become a river
gush through our yards and down our neighborhood streets
turn our homes into islands and the surrounding sidewalk into beach
blue skies overhead, grey water at our feet
i'll lay my bones by your icy shore
so you can wash them clean

defining moments don't present themselves as such until after the moment is gone. big decisions only seem big in the light of a new day. reliving a defining moment is easy: just think back to a time where everything changed. a time when you no longer were the person you once were. think back and remember a time that, at one time, seemed like nothing special. the big times come and go with a whimper, we only attribute the bang when we look back. foolishly, we live life moment to moment, only looking back when we catch ourselves in the mirror. through the looking glass you see age lines and wisdom. you see that you are no longer the person you once were. so you look back, stare through the mirror, into your past, pinpointing the decision that changed you. reliving a defining moment in your history is something you do when you're in the future. we pretend and present ourselves with these moments as explanations. the truth is there are no defining moments, but a lifetime of definitions.

restful sleep regardless

the rocking of the train leads me to dreams. soundtracked by calming signer songwriters, sometimes i open my sleepy eyes to catch glimpses of the belgian countryside. covered in snow, the view is pristine and i pull my coat closer, as if i could feel the wind's chill through the plate glass windows. sleep on a fast train is different than that in bed. sitting, your head against the window, you can almost feel every nook in the tracks. every leaf, every bit of snow that found itself under the wheels. falling asleep on a fast train, your dreams are invaded by every sound, every conversation. all of a sudden, you dream in italian, then japanese. you translate your dreams subconsciously. you translate your dreams however you want to. the rocking of the trains puts me to sleep, and as much as i want to watch the landscape pass me by, i give in. all you need are those sleepy glances out the window amid dreams anyway.

with each departure, the next one feels easier. instead of dissipating, my wanderlust increases with the addition of a new stamp in my passport. twenty-three years, and i'm finally beginning my own journey. my goal of hitting every corner of the earth is underway. south in summer? north in winter? flock to where the wind takes me. two weeks away, soaking up a culture completely alien to me. time at home to process. put everything in order and realize completely just how much i loved what i did. in the moment, everything compares to everything else. looking back and i see everything as it truly was.

with each departure, i need a homecoming. i can't do months away - hit every corner in one jumble of a trip. this aspect of my life i'll do in pieces. break up the world tour so i'm not overwhelmed, or worse, comparing everything to the first city.

my wanderlust will never dry up, i'll never be a static character in my own story. two weeks away, growth and new insights. i have to come home to share it, i can't keep it bottled up. i'm a door waiting to be opened, a secret waiting to be shared.

we grew up worlds apart

my first language

is your fourth

you've seen more of the world

up close

all the countries i fly over

you walk through

we're from different worlds

comparable to different planets

rotating around a common sun

two nights

all we had

all we'll ever have

worlds apart

and i don't know a lick of your

first language

but you tell me it's okay

some of our words

are the same

in the depths of winter, my soul reaches farther than the oldest cellar. your wide-eyed stares take in my cold interior, darkened by the lack of sun and cooled by the wind that regularly rushes through. catch your breath, it's visible when you exhale. numb noses and chapped lips. int he depths of winter, you can reach the depths of me. climb farther down, my warm air sinks. closer to the core, where my heart radiates from, climb down. warmer, getting warmer. in the stark, bare, center of winter, you can find heat if you dig a little deeper. if you play in my foundations, discover my secrets. in the depths of winter, i leave my doors open.