Standing Still: Poetry

We shoulder on the Path
through shards of sorrow's wrath
seeking to ease the journey's plight

And the lacerations hide
prickling behind our eyes,
in the breath of the wind

These self-made spades
carried upon the shoulder blades
are the result of love and pride

We closet the hearts inside,
while we consciously divide
consciousness by neural paradox

Yet the trees whisper truth
that the fountain of youth
is attained in being still.

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