I work at the edge, where the light of Awen beckons,  
Drawing me back to the warmth of this earthly life.  

Foraging into uncharted realms, brambles cross my face,
thick and wild,  
An unyielding maze where the shadows of my demons linger;  
they are a little messed up.  

Yearning to retreat, to find solace on familiar ground.  
Visions of a goddess pulse an existence, so inspired

I stand tall, defenses at the ready,  
Nurturing the delicate blooms of change within.  
In the quiet moments of within myself, I gather strength,  
For transformation requires time, patience, and grace
I humble my mind.

One day, I will rise, petals unfurling to the sun,  
To bring forth my gifts, sharing the beauty of my journey  
With the world the seed is broadcast, as I climb steadily from the dark.

There's a little
boy that hides in
the dark corners of
my soul.
He doesn't want to
be hurt anymore.
I spent eight years
with Beth.
For the most part,
it was hell and
constant pain.
She made nightmares
look good.
I heard the
little boy cry
late into the
silky night,
while snails got
smashed on the streets
of Ventura.

When I drank, which was often,
the little boy seemed
at peace for awhile,
while swans were
murdered in Venice,
and I tasted the ashes
of Neruda.
Years flew by
like seagulls;
up
down
and darting.
The little boy
continued to
hide in the
dark corners of my soul.

He wanted to
come out and be loved.
He was thirsty for it,
but there wasn't
any around.
It was dry, like the
deserts in hell.
It's too late for
sorries here comes
the plow.

He began to see
the pattern of life.
Some monsters walk in the light.
Vulnerability equals pain.
The little boy got mean.
And now he carries
a knife.