Breaking my heart again.
Falling down my crystal stairway.
The brilliance of the dawn
replaced by a golden epilogue.
I try to find my feet,
but like my Faith,
they have forsaken me.
Strive as I might,
I have never
found a use for the word
“Thrive”.
It’s as if the syllable’s
a jester,
mocking me
and haranguing my mental state.
Once burgeoning epithets
die on the tongue
and I have no strength left
for a counter.
Still,
I remain.
And time,
as the ocean tide,
returns to me my buoyancy.
Lifts me up
and places me back
at the foot
of an Escher’s staircase.
Wounds fresh,
but healing.
Somehow,
I lift my eyes again.
HG – 2021
