Poetry from Wisdom

This harsh exhale soothes me as gently as a summer breeze
As does this loving inhale chill me to the bone

These two are imperative to one another’s well being

I admit my foolishness now
I have not been listening

I’ve been smiling up at the sun while trying not to step on the thorns beneath my feet

These thorns that dot the ground grow by that same suns light
And the food that I nourish this vesicle with grows from the bows of these thorns

Lately, I’ve been running
Running to the sun
and my feet had grown bloody
So I tried to run faster
and faster
and faster
Till I was running on stumps ground down to the bone

Now I see with new eyes there is no thorns without sun
And no life without thorns

I can no more step over the pricks and prickles
Than I can stomp out the sun

This I have learned from persisting in foolishness
Which, I guess, was a blessing all
along

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