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A shift in the air; subtle
but there.
This power is one as old as time-
the forc..
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The Little Light
is not often so little,
that there is threat of going out.
The Little Light
can grow..
Grow to be the most brilliant,
the mos..
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We are as leaves within a breeze-
drifting together in two's and three's.
Sifting our way through branches bitter-
..
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Time drags as dry skin on a summer slide,
yet there never seems to be enough of it.
We make light of the things we need-
like sleep, laughter, an..
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Some days
it takes all I have
to get myself to crawl out
of bed,..
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The title is very key in this piece. It is with most of my work.. But this one especially.
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It's odd this attachment.
It comes when it is neither wanted
nor warrented.
It fills my chest with something...
strange;
a hash of rage,
a..
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Before my eyes have even opened, you are on my mind.
Fingers reach for you, adept in the knowledge of your exact position beside the bed.
Whether..
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It flies forth, an extension of myself
and strikes the air as it were to make a rift
in the loop of time:
If only to strike again.
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Its held in your throat, as violent as a nearly still thing can be, while still with purpose unbound.
The faint tink of metal reaches my ears as you ..
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