There are moments of peace that spread through space and time as if the finger of destiny were in control.
Sounds swirl around in a chaotic symphony to create a web of melody to nest and harbor ones soul.
For some this eye of the storm may be a calm achieved in a place of choosing and alone.
Me, I, can only attain this much desired anomaly in time and space by looking outside me to a crone.
Alone in a dark room with the sounds echoing from one wall to another and another and yet another,
I find that my only hope for survival is to rely on someone so dear whom I fear I might smother.
My irrational mind asks questions of ruin and brings images of disaster and torment.
There is never a moment, even when in happiness, I do not realize I am a fragment.
Rather a fragment than nothing at all, yet where does this peace come from that I began about?
How can peace be attained when there is a shattering of the very bones that make me cry out?
How?
Because you say you love me.
Ronovan
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Beautiful.
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Wow!
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Reblogged this on ronovanwrites and commented:
Throwback Thursday. I haven’t shared a throwback before, at least I don’t remember one. This seemed appropriate considering my TO SOAR poem today.
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