Though the oceans rage & the waters imagine a vain thing;
though the sun scorches the earth’s skin & it’s rays sear pain onto my dermis.
Yet will I stand by my window, & listen to the voice of the wind preaching hope.
There are various melodies that saturate the post-jentacular atmosphere.
There’s the sound of insecurities echoing off the skies, like the plucked strings of a guitar.
There’s the aubade of imperfections dripping off the chapped lips of the breeze;
like nature conspired with a broken heart, to serve me delusions on the cracked platter of life.
Through it all; like a true knight of valor, my search for light does not relent.
For, what use would it be, to live a life that speaks of no peace after the travails?
& so my life’s ambition remains to be a blacksmith of my decades,
shaping them into rungs of ascension on the ladder of existence; one day at a time.
