Early Morning

There are a thousand stories to be told before they are lost in the wind. Each story contains a glimmer of the true self, the one hidden by the scars accrued over a lifetime. The bitterness that comes from a lost love, lost dreams, lost desire, the losses we wear to cover our hearts true nature. In the early hours, before the sun has risen and the world is quiet, if we take a moment to sit in silence we may hear that small voice calling us to strip away those layers, to lay naked once again before God.

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I Found a Poem

Iridescent waves

frothing over rocks

break upon the shore

wind singeing color

on our faces

the sky

a bright cadmium yellow

washing away

the miasmas

of the night

a beacon shines

a siren call to home

Birth of a Poem

Turn off the noise

settle back

listen to the quiet,

there it is,

that poem,

so long buried

one I’ve overlooked

now I write

not perfect,

it has lain dormant

buried deep

that I know

it is messy

but in this silence

sipping my coffee

words

burst forth

my fingers type

and this natal poem

takes it’s first

breath