Friday, October 21, 2022

Our Hills Where Hell, They Lead To Heaven

I,
want to hold your earth in my soil
Your mind, in my cosmic
A peace of your aura in my tea,
as i sit and sip
I think of ways to love you inside out
and though we have not been,

I wait to be one with you 
To, harmonize with your hidden parts
and secret pieces
 
To breath in your painful thoughts 
as we burst from tear to laughter

A green eyed reminder
though we are not aligned

You remind me of, time 
A time, that has passed but is,  and has yet to come 
The ripped roots have found a way back into the ground
 
The seedling has begun to moisten 
Ive seen a sitting man
listening to the truth.
 
a sweet, bitter sweet , bitter treat 
A lull sang 
from a nest, across the street

As pain filled as it is
it changes him and grows deep within
Accepting lines that fade and blend 

Turmoil, becomes the mans best friend
He rarely grins
Nor, is his cheek caressed 
He is flogged and left
loving what has left
loving what no longer has breath 

Hoping in the miracle of what is,
next.

God, introduce me to myself
the man who is in love with 
the hope of ascending from hell


     Runson Rason Willis x 35 mm








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