this poem is a flower / you are a flower
you are water / this poem is water
this poem is a bee / you are a bee
the more you tend them / the more they tend you

My boy, not everyone is destined for calm harbors under sunny skies. Some of us are destined for far grander, far more terrifying endeavors.

Some of us are destined to sail the open sea under cover of night, under threat of destruction by forces of nature far greater than our comprehension. Some of us are destined to know the fear of death as familiar as a brother. And some of us will know to savor the taste of life, to marvel in awe at the towering majesty of a storm forming on the horizon. To laugh with each crack of lightning, to feel the pain of rain lashing against our face and know it for the joyous truth that

WE ARE STILL ALIVE

Some of us will rest in the wake of a storm’s passing and know those first golden rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds for the gift they are — the prize of a battle hard fought, a deed well done. The proof of a life well lived.

Some of us will know calm, and some of us will know peace.

Some of us will know comfort, and some of us will know greatness.

Some of us are given opportunities to overcome impossible struggles, or perish.

Will you know the perilous joys of your destiny, my friend?

—thirty january twothousandzerohundredstwentyfive