There is a mind: A lapse of breath beating the beads of sweat underneath the sea of seeds - thoughts Drained in melancholic resounding echoes stirring the caverns of wonder Orchards of hope littered in trees of belief: I am burnt by the star god, peeling layers off beside the mine I dig with fervor I pluck a fruit of truth from the tree of belief in the orchard of hope. My fervor begs for relief but I am met only with challenge and resistance. I feel to be an ember in the wind: a radical and inevitable ending to one spark that’s lit for death. My truth is written, a spoken wonder in the thrill of gusts beckoning the thunder. A storm of being, I am aimless but in all directions. A hall of doors, my many fires lit are but only a curtain drawn to shield its flame: my participation is summoned. I am withdrawn but wholly here awaiting the straw to tip and draw me forward into light, spotlight, some excuse to hold me steady under pressure.
Posted on: Fri, 05 Sep 2014 05:40:26 +0000
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