Jung’s Red marries Maggie’s blue

And shines in purple’s royal glory –

Like the rich talents of my brothers’ golden hearts:

Solid, malleable, pure, and valuable –

We are: supportive ballasts of joy and guidance –

For our Rolodex recall is fraught with 

Isolation’s macabre silence – memories brushed 

With strokes of tiny deaths and twisted violence:

Learned mechanisms, intuitive depth, 

and their enriched Soul’s balanced mind. 

May my entwined heart burrow and

spread wide as Oregon’s Armillaria ostoyae –

(A most”Humongous fungus“) –

A determination reaching unfathomable limits 

Expressed through validation’s earnest fondness 

Of their immeasurable dimensional distances; And,

May these truths exudes the Truth’s Truth  

Upon your still wise heart and ethereal essence – 

Because    relationships    are     hard. 

Minds’ mercurial pangs congress in 

Byzantine conduits vibratory wires, 

Magnanimous pulses, electrical signals 

Resonate spiritual satiety; currents travel 

To delicate temples and zap hollowed hearts 

Into autonomous beatings – their dances 

Fueled by delight’s atomic splendor of 

Self-actualized neuronic charges. And:

We will, and, life does, so, there is no

Turning back; but directions are infinite;

Therefore, your life has one decision – choice.

And, you must know, regardless of Cannon’s

“Suggestive” commitment to persistent

Forward movements’ intransigence: 

No matter the matter of your matter, 

Or how long you’ve been traveling wrong: 

You can always turn around.