I stand in wrangle of the thought,
Chopping choices laid amidst all I've made.
Seeing in the prism'd prison of my ways,
What remains despite the loss.
Despite the toll of absent kin,
Which weekly, always, rings.
What remains besides the weight,
Besides it's bowing touch,
Stands uplifted with what's regained.
With what's reground, reformed and blissful.
And what remains, waits.
Untouched and untouchable,
Honed and cleansed by what,
This life makes, possible.
Written by Fiftysevenhours
Published | Edited 24th Nov 2022
Author's Note
An extract from today's journaling.. ran with it. As I did the title despite finding I've already got one called that.. hello unintended theme. Hope all are well.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5 reading list entries 4
comments 11 reads 276
Magdalena DanielChristensen Josh Rianne
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
Today 1:08am by jenny_is_hungry
6th February 2023 11:03pm by Mrd
6th February 2023 10:38pm by Jordan
6th February 2023 10:13pm by Wafflenose
6th February 2023 9:39pm by Wafflenose
6th February 2023 6:44pm by APissPoorShaman