Truth, laying hidden
In plain site, floating
Upon the spring breeze,
Raging winter storm
Or Autumn’s fallen
Leaves. Grasping
Hold of each sense,
Each sensibility, until
Reality becomes
Distilled down to
Bassest elements,
Life’s rawest truth.


This Girl

She’s like a hummingbird
Energy and passion
Vibrate from her being
Morning sunlight
In the early spring.

Drinking, her cup
Touches her lips
Ever so briefly
Pausing her vibrant
Song. Upon a breath
Light returns.


Powerful words
Burst downwards
From the angry sky
Singing songs of
Rage and anguish
Into the vacant night’s
Sky, echoing amongst
Cold stars

It comes in bursts,
like the rising and falling
of a fickle storm
with no end or
and like a storm
It is wet and violent,
treacherous to
those nearby
and beautiful to those
who watch from
their windows,
blissful and far removed.
Sometimes I seek comfort
in the storm;
in the rage, the tears,
the spiraling thoughts
and emptiness I do not
wish to feel, yet
it is all I have ever
felt. And we all
cling to the familiar.

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