Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Daily Prose Poem




"Deserted"

After so many days of living inside the dark, you learn to console yourself.  Kiss the upturned palms of your own hands.  Bow a namaste into the morning of an empty room.  Bend with the wind of destiny like a yogini, and begin again.

1 comment:

  1. A ritual which eventually takes its cue and reacts as desired!

    Hank

    ReplyDelete

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