Writing, writing, writing into
A corner in the room filled
With elephants and tigers and
A lioness or two
Scratching at the walls created
By time, circumstance, and
Procrastination unfettered as
The days run into nights
And the mess they've made has
No rhyme or reason or sense unless
You count the lessons learned along
The way to growing up
Learning to be good and right
As all is set aright and the writing
Comes more naturally and the
Scratchings make more sense.
She heard his heart somehow cry out
In the middle of the unfamiliar silence
Between them like
An alarm sounding through
The ages gone before and
What shall continue on.
She absorbed his cry inwardly like
A mouse afraid to scamper into
The light despite knowing
Everything would be alright in
The end as they take pause to consider.
She felt his heart beating beside
Hers in the grandness of
Eternity waiting for loving actions
Of genuine free will.
She noticed her heart growing as
Fear changed into a beam of light
Providing the luxury of taking pause.
Her heart might cry and his might go
Another way, but today it will be alright.
Beauty is in the details of
This life that sometimes even
Ofttimes does not seem so
Beautiful unless you examine
The threads with care.
Black thread, grey thread,
Purples, reds, and even green,
Have a common thread of golden
Roped around and in between every
Single thing.
The shine and shimmer can barely be
Perceived when the seamstress busies
Herself with the grey of the day, yet
They are there, waiting for you.
Beauty looks like waking after a long
Night of struggle and tears
When the sun comes up and warms
Our slumped shoulders and
Lends us energy anew.
It really should not be this
Difficult
To keep breathing and living
Each day
Or should it?
Maybe we are supposed to
Feel
Maybe we need to struggle and think
Each day
What do you think?
Your experience matters
100%
Your ability to cope
Each day
Are you doing okay?
If you can answer this question
Yes
Maybe everything is okay
Each day
Will you remember and just breathe?
