40
poem
sometimes
guess we know instantly
approach where the road stops
we are forced to choose one or the other,
appeal to animal instinct, or simply a daisy
leafless
reason, at times, as the wind
pierces the heart with the vehemence of the waves or turn
uncontrollable fire burning us
end intuition, however, silent walks
hand of fate,
is like water supply in balance
to navigate smoothly
the fragile paper boats
crystals to treasure everything we are,
before
burn.
.
.
