Nothing could’ve prepared this little boy for what life would become.
So, to my future son(s),
I write this letter.
Let these words,
the legacy of my life,
be the guide that forages a path unto your feet.
A decree of my profound love from beyond the cosmos.
My son,
you have been sculpted and carved from the ashes of all that I was,
in you,
you carry the wisdom of the trials and triumphs I have to come to know,
in you,
is the version of myself that that crucified the demons that tendered their sulfuric whispers to my melancholy ears.
My son,
you are nourished by the nectar of the blood I spilled to ink these words.
you are an allegory,
composed of the versions of myself that carried each other up a ladder fashioned out of my mortal bones.
My son,
when you go to sleep tonight,
I want you to dream,
dream until the last stretch of your dreams.
I want you to frolick,
frolick between the sand and the stardust,
dance in the blood that gushed down the gold-hilted sword I pushed into my tender flesh,
the blood that fulfilled the last sacrifice,
my final resistancc,
my final act of love.
My son,
when the times comes,
do not bury me,
I want you to strip my body for parts,
return what remains to the soil for the vultures to feed their young.
let my ashes -
the remnants of a life lived -
paint the nightsky,
may they decree a script that guides you back to me,
your forever home.
Thank you always for sharing these beautiful reflections.