My stewardship of Poetry means the world to me and more. All I’d love to do is escape into a desolate land where words grow on Trees while Authorship shines brightest. Where souls peacefully mesh into one Being in order to create a story that is new under the sun.
But, how often to we recognize the power in our own palms for us to soar through the darkest skies while illuminated like the stars that we are? Not so often, I believe. More so once in a blue when life stops you at a Red Light.
Yet, life is beautiful. Sometimes, being pressured into such a critical point can force you to rise like a rose growing through concrete. If you allow it to, that is. After all, life is never as ‘concrete’ as we want it to be.
Carry on, is what I say. And fight on. Tussle with the winds for war. Fly peacefully even with the turbulence of your emotions. Happily sway back and fourth to the sound of your voice moving mountains. Otherwise, you’d be dragged by a collar owned by someone who has caught your dream while replacing it with the bloodiest of nightmares…