Gifts For Future Children is a collection of writings and illustrations created by Chad Seidel between 2012-2017.

She wrote
because
it gave her
the ability to
unwrap
gifts
inside
her -

She became
pregnant
with ideas
and birthed
cities.

I am begging for
ideas to
grieve -
like somehow I
will feel different
once I share.

Or - am I just praying
that I didn’t waste
my time?

I spent years
craving
simplicity
and dirt.

Only to go deeper.

Lost more fully
than I thought
possible -
pulled down
to depths
that logic can’t
follow.

There is a weight
on that
time
that asks
me
to stay a little longer…
sit with
me
just a little
longer -
one more cup of tea,
one more
anything -
just please
don’t go yet.

If I could wrap
myself in shiny paper
and
deliver my spirit
to you,
I would.

If I could take my
scattered stories
of surrender
and show
you my face
without this
mask,
I would.

If you are a result
of the
universe seeking
complexity -

how will you
honor
the stars
that gave birth to you?

What does
consciousness
want?

She has been
very patient.

She is
so curious.

Why does she
desire complexity,
her
fabric,
her
blanket,
her
skin -

She begs to
name
herself.

What is her name?

Sing to
the things you
want to
love you.

It is the suffering I am told
about but cannot feel,
the stories
I can’t touch,
and the weight of
it all -

The risk that something is
dying inside me,
the fear that even
my soul may turn
it’s back on me,
all the stories
I’ve told myself
about what it means
to be alive…

Where is my slingshot now?

I look into myself and see
a soul
stuck between worlds.

Those that speak of
shamans -
I lash out,
mistaking them momentarily
for my demons.

The angels that don’t know
which direction to go.

I am sorry for mistaking
you for me.

All my sorrows still
sit inside me.

Liberation in confusion, right?

Something feels empty.

Is it just the joy of last
night bleeding out?

The shame and confusion of
walking away?

My indecision?

How is it that the luckiest
boy in the world - gifted with
abundant
time -
finds himself
so very distraught
over the future that the
only cure is to
follow
someone else’s
dreams
for awhile?

Just let me sleep
one more night,
with the shadows -
before the
war
continues.

The details of a
thousand words
are never
turned
into
stories,
and
so
they
die - lost
in
wise eyes.

Be certain of one thing
amidst your
oceans of doubt…

Sacredness is unfolding
the nature of what
holds the atoms of
your body together,
while you stress over
how to define insignificant,
the miracle of
consciousness is
burning at all
ends -
the candle is a star,
you are a servant.

Stop wasting your time
trying to validate being human.

You don’t owe anyone
anything -
you are a gift,
your life
is a gift.

Why do I
make jokes
about
my relationship
to beauty?

Why is it so hard to talk
of the most sacred
things?