Look at this seat- brooded and treated by dust, grains of sand filling the incomplete parts of me. Hear the cackle- disintegrating where the walls stood by, contemplating the security under the auspices of the love, I besot.
Whenever winter comes, a wave caresses the skin, piercing the base and snatching the moisture I ever believed to have. Everything looks dry and when I ply energies to touch what I have lost; I am kaput.
Look at the huge sky with patches of cloud but where I stand goes the blink of an eye that sees only brown and then quality to recognize and to decipher loses the war I fought.
That all happened, that was meant to happen. Flowers we seeded had to knock down. Love that we nurtured had to belt down. No matter how much you live in, how much energy you invest, it happens leaving you dumbstruck. If time corresponded, I will sit by the town waiting for that quail to sing again, waiting for the season to chirk up again; I will slowly move towards it; to understand the hidden message it gives for the next winter.
For when winter comes again I will never let it barren, the inside world I have, and emotions that dominate my world. I will fight till my hand can bear the strand and after that I would let world go still, take away my senses, keep me stranded. To wait for next spring to come, next hope to bloom, and next home to make my own. For the place I belong to, is build with love and love comes after every stint and it comes better and stronger.