Pain hibernates within the roots of growth.
For all things grow, yet not all fruits float.
Peace retreats during the blooming of a single shadow flower.
A moment when darkened light foreshadows the hour the sun shall devour.
An insatiable appetite, yet fond of the darkness.
Love remains, as the unstruck match, buried within every carcass.
Dead or living, energy continues on as a borderless entity.
Separateness is simply a construct of misunderstood identity.
About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd | Zen Practitioner
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
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