and when you see this brilliant turmoil, darling
with outstretched fingers
dare to approach; part the crush
extend an entreaty into the dim, and with trepidation
attempt to avoid those clinging snarls
and lingering doubts
even though you know to try
is to become ensnared in soul in sinew
entangled, uncertain
keep pushing
when the radiance
builds to reflect the sun itself
pulling tears to the tips of your lashes;
or is it the searing trails
the thorns tear down your wrists
and when you withdraw
decorated
in lurid scratches, and gossamer robed
your hands overflowing with the light of the cosmos
and your breath ragged in exertion
anticipation, regret
each strand severed
each petal creased
each spur bloodied —
is this moment both as exquisite and as excruciating
as you never intended
inspired by photos taken while snapping branches of fresh broom tumbling down the emerald hills of Ireland. Apparently my memories and my emotions are caught there this week. Be gentle; I dream in delicate, architectural poetry, but often express in disjointed prose.
These photos and words are all my own work, inspired by my travels all over this pretty blue marble of ours. I hope you like them. 🌶️
Hi, I'm Crimmi. I help run a top 30 Steemit witness, along with my project partner 