~for the wild child, daughter, wife, mother~



I am drifting into the tender part of the night, when deceit is pointless, and I argue with conviction within myself that in our lives that it will never be too late, but I know I contradict my prior musing...somewhere between the fact that time is a wasting commodity, precocious and precious, lives this idea within, that there is nothing that cannot be navigated, recompensed,  even forgiven...

the argument goes on, the tide of battle switching back and forth, and for now I must be satisfied with the meagerness of I can’t give up, be at ease by acknowledging defeat, not just yet, and the fast arrival of a clean slate is a chance, a draw, a ticket to ride, and,

reaching

is a wonderful idea, full of compromise, out and in, extra effort, and tomorrow I may yet teach one of us, even myself, by reaching inside of what churns within, and then have the perfect words you require, for a desperate need, and a comforting that comes forth easily

Keeping a grudge is easy... it's the forgiveness part that's difficult. I have tried and failed countless times... but i'm determined to succeed..i don't wish to keep no more grudges.. coz all a grudge a does is that it keeps feeding on your soul like an agitated ant.

In the pale snow footsteps remain.
If I tread in place they'll never fade
But If I stay I'll freeze in place.
I never thought I'd let them go

The sun rises too soon.
My heart never did leave

I wept in the flames of my life,
Scratching at the rubble in vain.
The roof caved in. I smiled wildly,
Now nothing hid the stars from view.

Your paintings burnt quietly
As I framed the moon.