I reach to pick up my shattered Pen
And think to myself "I will write again,
Not because I can, but because I must."
I dip my tip in a pool of dust
And with the strength of a single tear
I snatch at the sparks that disappear.
"If I must burn, let me be free,"
I scratch on my paper hand, "I'll be
A torch to the lonely, a scribe for the lost,
The last burning page, the bleeding cross.
Just let me dream enough to be
Myself when I was friends with Me."
I'm burning to embers and floating away:
Dandelion dreams for another day.
YOU ARE READING
Ikigai
PoetryI had to let go to grasp my loss. I had to get lost to find my way. I had to fall to stand for what's right. I had to leave the old To arrive at the new. This is my journey from goodbye to farewell.
