a dream—
of landscape scorched,
its reflection my
soul.
the place one oft ventured
wandered—lost,
alone.

thunder,
lightning in the distance, the
rumblings of a
turbulent mind.

the ash of failed dreams
drifting
through the air,
strike as rain breaking silence—
a nagging reminder of effort’s shame.

angst, regret, fear
despair
a place damaged,
not yet under repair.

a flower
shocking contrast amidst mire.
perfect white petals perched on the
stem of a pen.
“My name is poetry.”
the instrument spoke,
“and you—are my purpose.”