Damaged wings
When we fly with damaged wings
the touch from a broken soul
can be the glue to heal
our damaged wings
When we fly with damaged wings
the touch from a broken soul
can be the glue to heal
our damaged wings
Shadowy remembrances
four-leafed clovers
flies, wasps and ants
Sun in bloom
butterflies dancing
and the green painting
Human sounds
overpower Gaia’s song
with such ignorance
Today, like any other day
is full
of disappointing moments
Innocence in the moment
of
Change
Sudden it comes
Sudden it awakens innocence
Sudden it reveals
and within a whisper of time
the rain departs
leaving its scent of eternity
and our newness
~
My latest piece written on Typetrigger
The world’s heart
is broken
its soul
is evaporating
its life’s breath
stagnant.
But there
I hear her tongues
of birdsong
I feel her soft fingers
of sunlight
I see her beauty
and know all will be well.
I’m here
I’m here, at last.
Sun’s love touches
upon daisy, buttercup
and the green
the beautiful green
beneath my feet.
Here I am
at last
with pen and book
back at my old haunts
caressed by shadows
kissed by nature.
There is this
this this temptation
to reveal the truth
of this feeling
but what would be the point?
When words don’t appear
when I want them to
except here
where they flow like sand.
The truth is
she brings me comfort
with a glance
and what do I bring
but silence.
When words don’t appear
when I want them to
except here
where they flow like sand
peaceful, but for the
screams