IfI wereto writeevery dayfor onehundred days,would my soulbe purged ofthis malaise;is it a thingto be dredged,dragged up –twistedand tiedlike tatteredbed sheetsknottedtogether;is therea remedyfor thisscourge;or is thisan inherentrestlessness,a fiery bluespark of eternalangst ignitingpassion – a callto write? (Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
Expectations artificialliving in an urban junglelonging for nature’s calm – time moves too swiftlybarely registerlet alone participate We are guests in our ownexpectation’s dysfunctionlicensed for depression a smorgasbord for abuseintentions mislaid,disappointment unavoidable The ego pretends to be openbut she’s an actress off cueplaying out a sentence – condemned to basicspraying to escapethis dystopian malfunction. (Image […]
One Woman's Quest II 
Beautiful!
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Thanks!
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You’re welcome!
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A symphony indeed!
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😊
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Absolutely gorgeous! 🙂 ❤
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Thanks
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The countryside does the same thing for me!
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😊
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Wow! Beautiful
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Thanks
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Now that you mention it, I can feel the symphony. Isn’t that a Diana Ross and the Supremes lyric?
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I don’t know….but no doubt lodged in distant memory.
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