Sunday, 5 January 2025

out of the haze

As I sit nursing the bruises and punches
Heart aching wild, I let go off all hunches,
Tending my inner child, blessings pouring forth
Causing me to be contorted in eighteen ways,
I lengthen my spine for the final jump out of the haze.

Life is calling and the stalemate has lifted 
Its ugly veil, and I am loathe to chide or admonish
Charting a new tale of when I can give my gifted
Blood and bones at the altar of love, 
Blessed from above in a mighty ethereal vest.

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