All I can say is, much like this post, I didn't know how it all started, where it went, and I pray it never concludes. All I knew was that I simply was in that moment, and the precise art of being is one to always be sought but never mastered.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you Daily Post for being the springboard for my blog, my emotional health, and my fire as a writer. You will be missed, you have done very well. Thank you.
Scribbled, childish writing on the paper more profound than you grew to be
But now I’m here, sipping the dew//Ambrosia-drink and treacle-stew//Buried in my eminent dole//All I ask is if you pass through//Share the strangest piece of you
And so, my pulse slowed, fever abated, fingers went numb. Yet there is still a touch of blush in my pale cheeks and blue lips. There is still a glint of the blinding sunrise scintillating in my eye.
Just me chanting chimerical chatter.
Sometimes we know what monsters are inside us... It's the unassuming darkness we forget about.
Last night, I hung up the coat that shielded me high on the Cliffs of Moher in the closet that I seldom open, the hinges groaning in protest. The salt from the ocean spray, still clinging to the thick sleeves, left my fingers sticky and longing to return. A gentle yet abrasive reminder that, for once, I did it. I was a member of everything, and my eyes saw the vibrant colors of everything. My ears were buffeted with the pulse of everything, and its pulse became my pulse.
Fin'lly stopped, I silently rest//Gears red hot from the grind//All pulled apart, cleaned, oiled, and dressed//Refurbished by design
Writer and Linguist
"I saw the Angel in the marble, and carved until I set him free"
Born in Poland | Living in Texas Now | Hype
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December Rose 