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.
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Poetry: Fallen Fates
https://windstrewn.com/2018/01/24/fallen-fates/
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i like these picture its a hay ?
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Yes it is, Cristy…freshly baled hay, left to golden in the sun. Thank you for visiting and taking the time to comment!
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Beautiful heartfelt poetry.
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Thank you, Phyllis. I generally won’t write at all unless it begs me to from that place.
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Whatever you’re doing it works!
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