Cataclysm

How frail the mind becomes

when it must accept,

it cannot control their voices.

 

It is I,

who release and 

relinquish these binds. 

The veil of their

cumbrance, evermore removed.

 

The hourglass is fleeting

as I stand aside it watching,

waiting for the light of the sun.

 

The structure has been rebuilt.

We stand on the first plank

looking onward,

hoping it survives the storm.

◄ Butterfly

Catch & Release ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message