are blowing through,
carrying shards of failure
that scrape and scar
as they pass.
Disillusion is a softer wraith
that floats and fades,
a little harder to pin down
or even see,
but serving as a medium
for other shades
whose voices whisper
might have beens,
if-only's, and why-me's.
And though it seems the branches
are being stripped,
and hurled with force,
there's more than a suggestion
that something sturdy and unwavering
stands firm beneath the storm;
that certain truths endure;
will be wiped clean;
will glow again
once the detritus
of expectations is swept away.
No comments:
Post a Comment