We don’t fight anymore but we should. I miss the passionate heavy breathing, fire in our bellies, struggle to keep ourselves, our love alive. Why did we stop fighting? Just quit. Gave up. Let go.   Please fight with me again. Push my buttons, say…

Land and sea, I traveled. Three lifetimes of laying foundations among the clay, with clay covered hands, far from shifting sands and tidal waves. My hand to the plow, my heart intent to see the bloom of change among the walking dead. But all efforts…