Embers of fury
follow me, creating pathways into
the fissures of my heart,
unrelenting in the face of my
determined despair.
Why does the wind blow in the
direction of passivity?
Why do the red birds take me on a
journey without any clues?
The beauty of life seems to radiate the most
in between the pauses.
My soul awaits,
gasping for air,
overwhelmed by the pain and the virtue,
that interlock and intertwine,
and enhance each other through their filters.
The beaten path makes me weary,
yet knows me more than I wish to admit,
reveals more of me with every turn.
She's Come Undone 