Broken wings can't take
flight,
even if you wish to soar the
skies,
They'll falter, crash and
bring you to your
demise.

Just as a pen without ink
cannot craft a single word
You'll press and press
tearing paper until it
bleeds,
it's emptiness exposed.


Wings must heal before
they lift you.
Pens must be filled before
they write.
Only then can the words
within
flow like rivers aching to be
free,
like the steady rythm of
your heart.

So give your wings the time
they need.
Fill yourself with ink - let it
pool deep,
ready to pour onto life's
blank pages.
Then you will soar the skies,
birthing words that give
you breath,
that lead to the
healing
you have always sought.