Sometimes
we have to
pull over,
s l o w
the pace
to a halt...
Yes, the path
towards the end
may be hazed
rendering you
hopeless
so take a break,
it doesn't change
the distance anyway
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
