The Beauty of Calamity
original poetry by [g]
The Beauty of Calamity
I live at the cross-section of
homelessness and gold-plated bridges
I train my physical body daily, but I'm no longer running-
Away -
In the street outside
Racing cars let out groans of aggression and loneliness
begging for attention
the pitches are jagged, like choking
and most fruitful in their endeavors
on this side of the land's edges
Emergency sirens decorate the
twilight with inexhaustible breath
startling my nervous system awake
until I remind myself it's all a dream
and I lull back to slumber
only to wake up again
On the inside of my humble suite -
a private oasis
uniquely gifted by Source, to me
as I anchor squarely in the middle of
this vortex and observe keenly
the beauty of all the calamity
12027230 [g]
About the Creator
Gabrielle Neavin
To Shine Your Bright Light is the Sacrifice and the Gift.
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Doing it for the troops
The others dropped like flies around me. We fought and struggled to get to this point. I'm the only one left now. The objective is right there. A mere two hundred feet away. The last of my team got a bullet to the head right next to me, but I couldn't do anything. I was able to locate and neutralise the sniper as he shot my friend, so his death was at least not in vain.
By Mohammed Darasia day ago in Fiction
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