This time is not for lamentation. I tell myself.
This time my wounds have learnt to heal themselves and so I
walk through a forest of arrows | My back is bent against shrapnel and my soul
is still dancing on that thin line of in-betweens.
Asking when would the world beget itself and lead us unto
paths of welcoming sunsets?!
My name is a house on the hill,
that means it’s on top.
That means my Grandfather emerged from a lineage of
warriors. And yet I fail to win the fight against my skin.
This time is for bouncing back up
Building defenses against the roses of thorns
Scratching the surface of every experience like a DJ in love
with his jam. > Pull and Pull
Search and seek
Deep in energy, buried in peace! I’m all you’ll find, lurking behind butterflies.
