Because this is the roof, pillars, and blood.
Because I am comforted by the familiarity of your vagueness.
Because in this cosmos I can dream forgotten dreams and sleep will nurse me to greatness.
Dear Christ a poet person,
I want to thank you for your patient existence.
The coexistence of stars is only possible in a wide black sky.
Your bravery must not go unrewarded, making art of the message,
molding messes with massages, balm sometimes, bullet other times.
And because you are, I can be.
Free to fall, no fear for your love is gravity.
Holding me down yet helping me move.
Failure is never as beautiful as when done with friends.
Friends turned to blood.
Blood shared in the cup of Christ.
Christ whom we bleed as poetry.
And when I fear that the art form is dead.
That I am alone, the last of the legends.
That I may never become, for life be too loud in my ears sometimes.
I remember to thank you.
Dear Christ a poet person that dares to be creator in a world where Thanos’ abound.