The Restless Poet

I taste the words as they roll from my tongue. Bitter.

Finality approaching and calming the tornado of spinning thoughts. I’ve given up thinking I can accomplish all I had planned but that is mostly due to my inability to stay focused. I bounce around like a sparrow foraging for insects. I’ve left more unfinished than achieved but maybe that was how it was meant to end. Accepting the untidiness in my life then ending it.

Exiting on the eaves of stillness.

Tiptoeing away from unfinished conversations

Quiet contemplation to unassisted tribulation.

Kindness lies in the peace of allowing freedom from the reigns of another.

Broken expectations.

How many secrets will stay hidden?

I hope flowers grow from the wounds of my soul.