And all of a sudden, as I held the first sin in my hand,
I’d be cast out of Heaven for my sins. These stones pile up;
each one bearing a secret; I throw them out as pennies for
a thought- and quietly watch them all fall; falling in what
looks much slower than slow motion

I stand around so many perfect sinners; it crowds me in;
as we all go round, and round hiding our hands that
dares to throw a stone. I drew a circle, patiently in the dark
-as a droplet in a river of thought, that flows into a sea that
whispers so loudly every one of my faults

The memories of one’s familiar dark past, grows larger
once recognized; as like a shadow that is stretched
Etched? I bet; as the deal of all those dealing in their secret
***** deeds- so indeed, that a greater sinner does call another
sinner greater.

Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but people always manage to hurt me

Every step I take towards living,
I'm stepping away from my calling
I'm stepping everywhere
end up getting nowhere
in search of stepping stones,
to move up the ladder
without grasping the idea
that these stones,
in due time,
will be steps I climb
up the downstair.

⚘
СНЕГІЅН
what you have;
the sticks and the stones,
the brittle bones and the names
you call yourself out of disappointment,
frustration and contempt. СНЕГІЅН it all; the
rituals and the struggles, the battles lost and won.
Eventually, those positions held so uncompromisingly
will be surrendered, by choice or by chance, to the
nothingness from whence
they came.
W
H
E
T
H
E
|          |          |          |          |  ­        Г          |          |          |          |          |
you are at one or at odds with yourself, whether you like it or not, they are a part of what has made you who you are - informed your choices, shaped your present. Return them to the bedrock of the earth, the ether, or the ocean, if you will; but do so with grace, fond remembrance, and a care for that which lives on within you.