And when I thought
that days would move
One into the next,
towards desolation
and remorse
There is a sea change,
and the west wind blows,
And the soul
waits impatient,
and the seeds
of hope and promise
find the will
to seek the sun
and grow.
And here,
in the desperation
and the solemn surrounds
of the mulch of yesterday
as it ferments;
Here,
where my way is lost
and the narrative dies
I must use
what is present
to feed tomorrow,
because it is hungry
and wakes me with
it's cries
Thank you for remarking ❤️