20 Lines A Day

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Torn Apart

Never would I ever imagine that there would be a time goodbye was in order.

We had a relationship that nobody could tear apart, but that tore apart as fast as a scene flashed before your eyes.

Tears are finished

Hurt will always be there

We aren’t in the same city so there is no possibility of me running into you.

Things change

Season fades

And love dies

Hope it was worth the price for you.


1 Comment

Trespasser

The well was cool and nourishing
and deep, but years ago
in an act of courage and
defiance, you moved the heavy
stone across the opening, allowed
the thorny branches to grow over
and around it, so that no one
could disturb your tomb, or drink
its healing waters, and you turned
your back, confident that the thorns
would do their job to keep the trespassers
out, but what you could not see in your
rage and self-hatred, was that the thorns
and brambles  shadowed you in your
exile,  shrouded you in your attempt to be
invisible, shrunk at your valiant effort
to fight them back, grew thicker and
stronger, shielding you from the world
of your creation, until that day when
the thorns pressed deep into your
flesh and you finally tasted the sting
in the back of your throat, and it was then
that you knew the only respite left was to
return to source, and there in that ancient
place, you tore back the branches and
brambles, bleeding and broken, but it was
too late to care, and you uncovered the patient
stone,  waiting for your return, and there
as you wildly plunged yourself into the waters,
as if returning to your mother’s womb,
there you realized that the thorns you fled had grown
out from the belly of your pain, and that you,
you are the trespasser, bathing in your own
well of salvation

©SpiritLed 2014


5 Comments

Echoes of Tomorrow’s Past

In your tear-filled rage
of not deserving,
time and space
collide with the moon
in your heart,
guide, seek,
draw you to the edge,
invite you
to cast your sorrows,
your excuses,
into the Unknown,
nothing more than
echoes of tomorrows past

©SpiritLed 2014
http//:wp.me/p2Ptur-6p


Moment

 

161

Intrigued

Captivated

by the stillness

and how  the echo sounds

when you scream to the top of your lungs

to release the rage

to release the pain

to release silence

and when you are done

you can take a breath

and lay on the side of paradise

feeling the water touch your flesh

and  just for a moment it can be picture perfect


Lord help me !

"Broken sky"

“Broken sky”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo credit : Julian Hernandez (c) D.R.

 

If we are in prison,
It’s as real as a deadly illusion,
If we are in prison,
We’re as alive as this poor confusion !

And days go by like barbed wire,
And I can’t stand the midnight choir,
Every time we dance on fire,
You just want to take me higher…

And if we are in prison,
I guess this is a golden cage,
And if we are in prison,
I only have to calm my rage !

For it’s a sin to stay awake
When everyone sleeps in one’s bed,
Although we still have love to make,
Even to watch the walking dead.

February, the 10th

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