poetry

haystuck

Through the muck and the mud and the mirage of pyrite...

Through the dimness of life or stumbling into its light,
    Either way I amble downrightly blind;
Through the muck and the mud and the mirage of pyrite,
    I scrabble-crawl just to clawingly find

    One reason to trust the stars shall align
To dress the spire at the tallest of cathedrals,
    On which I might balance that fiber fine:
One straw of hope from a stack of needless needles.


2 comments on “haystuck

  1. i like these picture its a hay ?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes it is, Cristy…freshly baled hay, left to golden in the sun. Thank you for visiting and taking the time to comment!

      Like

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