whispers, seeking respite,



drifting away,


ablaze on a canvas of breathtaking smiles,


bidding adieu,


to the endless,

treacherous, manic miles,


strapped in,

closeted,


in the constant gurgling of the crowd,


cushioned,

buffering,


inuring the conscience,

far too placatory,

far less backbone,


while ego huffs and buffs,

loud brash and pompously proud,


so,

even though the open skies may be boundless,


clearly cloudless,

still,


the stubborn loyalty to gravity,


rooted, terra-firma,


choosing to weather the chaos of elemental fury,


accepting of the scars,

the blood not yet spilled,


the long cold humid icicle stormy battles of which there shall be more,


and that shall be fought,


reigniting a hope,

nourished, nurtured,


on the precipice of being realised,


not merely peripherally,


exalted, inflamed,

thud-thudding,


within,

my hearts core …