Maybe I’m nothing more,
Nor anything less,
Than a sappy sentiment,
A pauper impassioned,
A slow soul with a lofty guess;
Through age and watering eye and the persistency of pain,
Through loss of heart or nonrefundable gain of the same,
I’m evermore convinced to say
That half of life is incorruptible love,
As far and away I’d slap a bull to believe—
But to believe in it unabashedly
Might well be the other half.
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Poetry: Young Money
https://windstrewn.com/2019/03/25/young-money/
WINDSTREWN 
The visual B&W ying/yang coupled with the visual cupping of poeming… I’ll take both halves
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Me, too, Raili!
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Nicely done! ♥
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Thank you! While moving into a new home over the last few weeks, I actually rediscovered this one and about another 70 or so pieces in a box that probably hasn’t been opened in at least ten years. I was happy to find them, as each uniquely represent a time and a place and a memory for me personally. I’ve been slowly reviewing them in the evenings this last week; I hope to share a handful more in the coming weeks. As always, thank you for spending some of your precious time here.
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