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Under the Cedar Trees Posts

Breathing This Way

I want to be wrong more than right.
I hope I’m wrong about so many things.

I inhale many possible outcomes every minute,
so many that I can’t even taste them anymore,
and exhale apologies with and for every breath.

What are my lungs doing?
Why do they feel this way, hating me?
Why must they tell the world, over and over,
“I’m so sorry I’m here”?

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July 29, 2025
~ 4 a.m.

Journal 2025.07.26: Guilt and Selfishness

“It’s ok, no matter what happens.” they tell me, but I fear for them anyway. Their logic, reason, and emotional intelligence is some of the most powerful I’ve ever seen. I fear for them — their potential disappointment, sadness, loneliness, heartbreak — they act like their shields are all securely in place but I sense joints in their defenses where pain can seep through. 

Gentle Birdsong and Bones Unbroken — For Those I’ve Never Met Who Fear the Ones Who Love

I’m sure you’ll never read this
This lesson could never come from me
But I do hope you learn it
Somewhere, from someone

I know it may be so, so very hard
For many of us to believe this
(Trust me, I do)
But please do consider the possibility 
That you can make the space you need
To hold and keep everything they have to offer you

To Consume Forever, To Give Forever

If I wanted to live forever
It must be just so I can read all the poems yet to be written
And all the past greats that I’ve missed so far
And so that I may write
And write
And write, write,
Write until the universe ends with a whimper,
Both it and myself becoming silent, together,
As one

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July 21 – 23, 2025

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