Dear world.

Dear world, wind burnt and glum,

I am half chocked from the desire to speak without words.

Even in the rose, aqua and deep purple of perfect evening sunsets

I struggle to find the eloquence in this spinning world.

I'm sorry for this absence in myself, this awkward gait,

these wants, these airs of melancholy that hum around me,

for the way my heels stick to this crooked surface

and slide away from the loveliness of living,

the knowledge of grace, the gorgeous sight of hope.

I promise to remember when I can,

to find peace with the who, what and where of being this specific person.

to find delight in the breeze, the dusty moon, the brilliant sun

to find less of myself and more of others and other things.

I promise to at least try.

Still, at this moment, I can but breathe, wait, and etch these tired thoughts

upon a blank bit of night.