They are a herd of wild horses
Trampling across my forehead in a dance
Surrendering themselves to the unknown
In blazes with the touch of a sun ray
Recoiling into quiet
And bursting into frenzy
Tangled like my cluttered mind
Falling out in a discouraged rhtyhm
Tied into a contained presence
But always escaping in the fluttering winds

A pained heart painted with colors of desire;
the depths of being, darkened without fire.
Gusts of rage fill holes in deep wounds;
lone thorn roses upon the soul blooms.

To be is to suffer the woes of despair
but not is to wither away in death’s lair.
Life’s hurt forever will have its presence;
a heavy weight on the unsteady conscience.

So hold on to the fragments of hopeful thoughts;
live in the moments when not all is lost.
Fight to float in the eye of the storm;
keep the heart beating, safe and warm.