Some Sorta Start

When open to vulnerability, indeed,

it becomes solid strength. These little


quakes of the core deep in the body’s

landscape: black winged roses always


changing color.  Doesn’t take much to rip

paper into pieces.  How can I reach


you?  A song whispers to you

from the distant

past: Give me

life, give

me pain, give

me myself again. You walk straight

with a fearless gait into all

the little earth quakes.


1 Comment

  1. I identify with this, but I don’t think I like my vulnerabilities too much…haha.

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