We are homesick and we
are already home.
Soul searching is unnecessary
when you let yourself realize
you still have one.
You are a revolution,
However noiseless and stilled,
You are a revolution.
Sentiments processed easily,
with seasonal reminders:
With core in the bedrock,
blossoms will return.
Calamity can exist with
a comeback.
One sturdy backbone,
enduring the thwack
of a drained pleasure center.
One more pleasure,
I will take,
Sir.
An all-over good.
A transformative good:
Well-being and Happiness
that swore to move in,
But you know they
are just visiting.
Whatever comes of it,
a rekindled whatever,
Whatever.
For now,
I can wake up to this affinity.
The rest isn’t much important,
when we’re hand in hand.
Yet,
Allow death to happen
in hard times and catastrophe.
Gambling with the inevitable
prolongs suffering.
Wrapped up tight,
Letting go is comfortable
with this knowledge:
I found ease and safety,
In those arms,
In the house of the wolves.
About the Creator
Maison Ray
Denver-based writer. Previously in New York to attend Pratt Institute and develop his artistry. With a self-described “violently pensive exploration of the lucid,” Maison tries to invoke an ethereal relation to the world through his work.
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