Poetry (words)


Never before have I stepped into a season with such hopeful anticipation. I’ve not felt this way, any explanation is me just stumbling as I try to make sense of what this feeling really is.
I’ve always dreaded the shorter days  always seen it as a forced inprisonment. Where we huddle in front of a flickering box of false light and repetitive stories. This feels so different. Like what lies ahead of me is the answer to that dread. 
Just recently I’ve dived into nature. I’ve become besotted by its ability to ease my soul. Be it the bark of a tree or birdsong. It’s affected me deeply. If I can have this little piece of sanity , this one thing so capable of filling my mind and heart with hope, I am thankful. 

Even now, I sit in complete awe, simplicity was born here and it thrives without greed nor spite. I’m not a searcher, I don’t need a performance or a performer come to that. I don’t need much of anything. I want to protect this, to sleep in its shadows and gaze into the night. 

Nature constantly gives, humanity tightens its grip and wonders why our surroundings are dying. Safe behind four walls until the wind blows at the barricades. What use are bricks and mortar when the landscapes we build on are barren through ignorance. 

We own nothing but our insignificance. 


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