CROSSWALKS IN PENNSYLVANIA

CROSSWAL:KS IN PENNSYLVANIA

Brought together by a hunger for knowledge,

We learn and teach, listening more than we speak.

With two ears and one mouth, I strive to hear

Twice as much as I say—though in my eccentric,

Clumsy dork way, words sometimes spill like untamed rivers.  In silence, I’ve learned to find the spaces between,

Where understanding blooms like a quiet flower,

Unseen but felt, in the pauses we dare not rush.

It’s here I gather the threads of wisdom,

Piecing together lessons from the stillness.Through decades of healing wounds and scars,

I’ve stitched myself whole—blood, sweat, resilience forged.

Each tear a testament, each scar a story etched

In the skin of my soul, battles fought in shadowed arenas.

Now, I stand, transformed, with open eyes and heart,

A thinker free from judgment’s chains,

Finding kindred spirits in the quiet of shared wisdom.  Like philosophers of old, we sift through truths,

Uncovering layers of time in the archaeology of thought.

We trade questions like treasures, unearthing meaning,

Two minds wandering the vast fields of wonder.Hard enough, being a knight in these days,

Where wolves mistake kindness for weakness,

And egos, blind to introspection, stumble

Over their own unexamined lives.

Yet, I meet you on even ground, minds aligned,

A knight not in armor, but in empathy—

Shielding the vulnerable, sword of wisdom drawn.

In a world of noise, I guard the quiet truths,

A sentinel of honor in a fractured age.Without words, we connect through the weight of scars,

Treating feelings with care, honoring what’s past.

In the quiet gaze, a universe unfolds,

Where trust becomes the bridge over chasms of doubt.

No need for grand declarations—just presence,

A knowing that settles like dust after a storm.Skepticism once ruled, urging me to overthink,

To unravel connection before it could root.

But I choose trust now, knowing your unspoken words,

Asserting faith in the space between us.

In that choice, I shed chains forged in past betrayals,

No longer haunted by voices not my own.

A single step toward belief, a leap toward freedom,

I silence the doubts that once held court.Ghosts from the ruins of Pompeii linger,

Echoes of a past I once couldn’t cross.

But now, I stride through those ruins,

Not as a conqueror, but as a gardener,

Planting seeds of hope in the ashes.

Each step a defiance, each breath a reclamation,

Of a future unshackled from the past.

I walk over what once buried me,

Not with ease, but with the hard-won strength

Of one who has learned to rise from the dust.And in this shared understanding, we meet—

Two souls, whole and scarred,

Trusting, not because it’s easy,

But because we’ve earned it.

The journey binds us, not in perfection,

But in the raw, messy beauty of becoming.