Here we go again. It’s 1:03 in the morning. The wind gusts are fierce. The heat barely on. The body in meltdown mode. Yet, it was all going to be ok. She had a plan. She smiled and waved back.
Nothing was going to be the same again. Nothing. It was nice have a clarity, for once. The cylinders would click into place. The bolts will hold. The steel will withstand. She was going to be a hero to herself.
Categories: identity, mental health, photography, Psychology, society, writing prompt
Being one’s own hero saves a lot of time otherwise spent waiting for some other hero. Love this.
How Shall We Point A Telescope Toward
Balance How Shall We Make Night
Skies Cold And Dark All Lit Up
How Shall We Warm
The Fall Winter
Peace Exhaling Love
For All Just Emptying out
The Snow And Rain And Replacing
It All With Sunshine Waves for All As
Ocean Sings Same With Water Whole
Hehe i am
End of A Telescope
As Always it is what it is…
And i Am What i Am Just
A Leaf of Grass As Whitman
Sings My Whole Back Yard
A Dream That Was Always Real Now..:)