poetry
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A hole. A hole built for me, out of love, out of passion of whatever I meant. A hole built for me when I never thought it could be a possibility, the builder fully aware of its potential. Voices whispered in awe of the hole and yet it was but a tiny hole with no
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She rose to a beautiful day full of life and expectations; to embrace the beauty and trials that lay ahead. She stepped out clothed in dignity. With her offspring beside her, she left the safety of her home into the world; each of them on their own paths. She smiled, talked, learned and taught, oblivious
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“Caution, doubt, walls up! Her nerves have been eaten by the wounds that keep dripping. She feels but what is it that she is really feeling? Never truly assured and yet it is what she yearns for the most. In the depths of her soul, she knows time would calm the storm; soon the dust
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Dum Spiro, Spero!I breathe; I live!While I breathe, I hope! Dum Spiro Spero, at a time when breathing is all that matters; breathing is all that makes sense because of the senseless pain that aches my heart, mind and soul. Hoping is as senseless as the pain that persists day after day, week after week,
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Tossed about by the raging storm. Like a ship afloat the ocean amidst a raging cyclone, capsizing and letting go of all its contents. As the storm persists, broken into pieces by the mighty ocean waves, the ship is swept into the deep where all the debris rests. Hopeless! Like the great wrecked-but-masterly-crafted-ship that once
Dum spiro, spero 