Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse… HA! The kids are screaming, husbands passed out on the couch
By Mel Sharpe 3 years ago in Poets
I've been thinking; I wonder what it would feel like if we defaulted to open heartedness if we approached each other with curiosity and created connection through understanding
Fate, the shaded minx, slipping and weaving and twisting and sliding through narratives. Creating the illusion of atonement, of rectification, of the promised paradise only to slither, fore-drawn, back into the shadows.
Friction grinding, mind in despair Walked down to the seaside in search of repair Sand burning white cold rage, aggressively leading the desert tip toed dance to oceans release
Tumbling through the red and into the light, a baby is born, a screaming delight, and at this starting point, we all do arrive