poetry

The edge of doubt is razor sharp and paper thin. Much too keen on thicker skin. It slices with ease and burns like hell- A feeling... I know all too well. Your kiss upon it... won't make it better. It spreads like an infectious tetter. It covers me....but uncovers...

A throne woven of four trees I gift to thee... A crown of stars upon your brow. The Solstice of Midsummer, the time for change is now. Sit still within the elements, breathe deep, and exhale remorse. Fair child of Litha I bathe you in green- Set forth upon new course....

Is your level of weird to the depths of hers? .....or..... does her innate being-- the natural rhythm of her physical heart- Beat to the sound of its own drum? Calling the Ocean in you, like a siren to her shores. Crashing into her ....again and again- until you break...

Fragile waves come to shore... but always recede back for more. For when they kiss the shore again, it's with the strength of a thousand men. Never underestimate.