The hurricane outside may very well have been summoned by the tornado inside the head.
Attempting to calm the winds with soothing strokes of a pen is nothing short of ludicrous.
The flakes of thoughts ought to be resting, so tread lightly in order not to stir them awake. If no one will listen, it's best to keep silent for now.
The flakes cover the secret that's meant to be kept, for sake of the unspoken promise that was made.
For the little I hold holy, my own word should be one such thing.
The once softly gliding kite now rigorously wrenches at the string, torpedoing between emotions and threatening a downward plunge. Its lifeline hopelessly tangled from all the indecision about the right direction, hope for smooth sailing is implausible.
Standing in the field, arms outstretched, I offer a landing place, a safe haven, and naivety paints the scene.
The winds I dared haven't knocked me down yet, the kite though bears alarming potential for success.
I lost my boots of principle running uphill to watch it fly.
I spent the contents of my pouch buying simple sentiments from strangers.
Now all my strength is focused on keeping my wisdom-stuffed hat and emotion-padded belt in place.
The newly-acquired coat of mystery doesn't fit me and bares a cold shoulder.
I close my eyes and let out a suppliant scream."Hush now, you're insane."
No comments:
Post a Comment