I wrote a poem. I’m at a crossroads in life, and no doubt overwhelmed. Enjoy.
Clearly, your feet have not dipped past the ivy crusted rims
Feeling the soft tickling of forgotten mosses,
They’ve meandered through the clattering shells clinging
To rounded flowers opening and closing before you.
They have not waded between the fluid roads revealed and at end
In the sky wandering round and straight in their wondrous Milky Way.
Where have you rested your head, those days you believed it was softened moss?
Whose breath did you let caress your face, what purple did you make your shade of nightingale?
They turn round eastward, towards instinctively home
The auburn sky is ablaze and you are there,
But still teeming, seething and afloat.
The chasms spread before, thinly sunk into worn crevices,
Peeling skins off of the age old trees and the heaven dense auras
The valleys and its hidden villages are to be pillaged
Only by those ravenous in the mouth.
A donkey bears the laden fruits of your search
And together you make it to the hole
Where you bury the hatchet, and leave the memories under
The skies fondle a home in the murky waters below.
Your sister is both there and already in the wind,
Faces sunken, but never lost.
Well done, the deed is done.
Whatever you have seen,
The losses you have carried,
The tragedies you have committed in both your name and others,
The slandered will rest easy tonight.
When the night falls, and you offer your soul to the pits,
You are free, and free of burden.