I basked in you; I loved you, helplessly, with a boundless tongue-tied love. And death doesn't prevent me from loving you. Besides, in my opinion you aren't dead. (I know dead people, and you are not dead.)

Should each individual snowflake be held accountable for the avalanche?

The humiliation I go through/when I think of my past/can only be described as grace./We are created by being destroyed.

We are created by being destroyed.

I believe one day the distance between myself and God will / disappear.

Its hard for me to grasp that I might somehow be my fathers equal in any way.

I wish my father could be around.