Picture Courtesy of The Health Site
What aura fills my genetic makeup?
Will I do well enough to raise it back up?
Will I do so bad it takes a nosedive?
The cloud is real.
The stakes are pounded in with a steel sledgehammer.
I look back, and I fill with yellow,
But I think back, and that sun turns to near dark ocean color.
I better look back
On the day itself,
One wrong move,
And it's a boulder breaking at the bottom.
Inhalation, calm, and face ability
Must be what I have;
The steep cliff will not be scaled
If my cranium is doing loops and circles;
Only a meditated look
Will gift me with readiness.
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About the Creator
Alex Maurice
Short story writer, poet, and essayist.
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