Creative Control

Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist

“Acoustics.”

cave_daylight

In that darkest moment.
When what’s left of winter taps fiercely at the base of your skull.
The undertones of overcast.
Yet you hear you can hear you can hear it.
The daylight from an hour away.
As close as it has ever been.
Echo.
Wait.
Echo.
Hold.
Echo.
Listen.
Echo.
Breathe.
Enough of its beacon breaking through.
To realize.
To recognize.
That the questions you have asked yourself for months

“What good am I?”
and
“What am I good for?”
are different questions.

And neither of them have been necessary.

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This entry was posted on March 7, 2019 by in Mental Health, Poetry.

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