Villalobos

We are homesick and we

are already home.

Soul searching is unnecessary

when you let yourself realize

you still have one.

You are a revolution,

However noiseless and stilled,

You are a revolution.

Sentiments processed easily,

with seasonal reminders:

With core in the bedrock,

blossoms will return.

Calamity can exist with

a comeback.

One sturdy backbone,

enduring the thwack

of a drained pleasure center.

One more pleasure,

I will take,

Sir.

An all-over good.

A transformative good:

Well-being and Happiness

that swore to move in,

But you know they

are just visiting.

Whatever comes of it,

a rekindled whatever,

Whatever.

For now,

I can wake up to this affinity.

The rest isn’t much important,

when we’re hand in hand.

Yet,

Allow death to happen

in hard times and catastrophe.

Gambling with the inevitable

prolongs suffering.

Wrapped up tight,

Letting go is comfortable

with this knowledge:

I found ease and safety,

In those arms,

In the house of the wolves.