When life is so much that death seems the only release. When questions can no longer be answered, Just asked. Again. And again. Until they are no longer questions But an account of my life. When time lost to nothing is no longer a concern. When the world is reduced to my badly functioning, damaged … Continue reading WhenÂ
writing my mind
Love is…
Love is a lane full of blossom, Flying through the air, & trampled underfoot. Hanging on to trees, Settling peacefully on the ground. Breaking down to nothing, Feeding what's around. Long periods of grey, Knowing the blossom will fly again.
Writing my Mind 