the crux

where yesterday’s sorrow song ends

and

tomorrow’s poetry promise begins…

stand

perfectly still at that juncture and

feel

the necessity of your pain.

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sacred land

I stepped away

when desire began to fade.

Drained of the burn

that used to scorch me,

singeing my insides,

spurring my need to go,

to create wind

that fueled

the living fire inside.

When the spark fell silent,

with no amount of stirring air

rising flames from ashes,

I knew it was time to rest.

Allow the embers

to grow cold within their ebony coals.

In time, I drew heat from my heart,

a searing spirit so strong

it could ignite

icy cinders in the arctic.

I reached inward to the blaze,

found the flame,

and ignited kindling.

A new start to the pyre

rebuilt on my own

sacred land.

within

wings spread against glass.

outside sunrise stretches on distant

horizon of the beginning hours.

I hear Spring alive

in the trees and air

moving back and forth

in search of a way

outside myself.

like moth caught behind glass,

longing to be free,

only to realize

in Time’s great patience

the answers were not

in the beyond.

it’s true,

I was at the glass,

but caught outside the lantern

burning to reach the light,

the fire inside.

for freedom is found

within.