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The process.
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When the going gets tough the darkness comes as it goes
the dread however, seems intent on staying.
falling to my feet only ends up a bloody mess
theres no soft place to fall,
no solice to take.
...
there is only the act of hardening
and tempered steel though when cold to the touch is savagely barren
it can stil in the heat of fire take on the attributes of warmth
and melt and become somthing rather inept
though slightly beautiful.
...
what then is there to do but reform our selves
and invite anguish and pain and then soften and harden again
till we find the shape of our hearts in the mould of the future
we once dreamed of if we can still remember it.
...
and dread will be our constant companion;
our third wheel in our fortunes.
which was never handed to us in any decent form of fate,
but that in that fight of going anywhere somewhere hidden in the violent struggle
is our often ignored love beating its heart out for the tempo to temper
and both beats to trigger each other in all our love states
simply to be recognised for what they are,
invincible.
A spellbinding read.
A spellbinding read.
This was very very nice to
This was very very nice to read.... very nice!!
....
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "