I walk and make my way with brittle steps.
Conscious cascade
Streams of thought,
whispering breeze
Shutter this window
Caw of crow over roiling sea.
I shall make my way to the edge eternal
Floating, free from
Boiling inferno
And when I reach that place where thought has no form
No brittled scorn
No reason for thorns
Freedoms flight complete
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.