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Biography of Dawn Michelle
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My life is my life... Full of things you can, and cannot understand. The purpose of a biography is to understand about a certain person. Maybe I don't want to be understood, maybe I do; but that is up to me. But I will let you in on who I really am, but only enough to get you thinking.
The thick smell of burning fills the air. No ashes. No tears. Just fire. The cool breeze gently makes its way into the room, enrapturing me in a sweet embrace. The setting sun shines proudly on the thin trunks of the palm trees. Only silhouetting their magnificence in a pleasing glow of unnamable colors. The surrounding air is lightly dusted with the ‘goodbye’ color of the sun, mixed with the ever-present dinginess of smog. The massive, outstretched leaves on the palm trees shiver slightly as the air pushes it’s way past them. Birds, oblivious to the calm, chirp happily in the trees. Content, they sing a song of praise. (Maybe not-so oblivious after all.)
In all the calm serenity ever known to man, there is always a disturbance. Here a siren rings in the distance, warning cars and passers by away from its path. The fire, though miles away, chokes the grass it feasts on. The sun will soon leave, covering our world in a thick darkness that cannot be illuminated. The smog exhausts every breath that is ever taken. The palm trees will eventually die.
In this diverse fusion of peace and disorder, I am content. Our disorderly world, orderly? No, but in my heart I find peace. And peace from within effects the calamity that takes place all around us, every day of our lonely lives. Away from this confusion of ‘peace and disorder’ is where we all want to be. Screaming inside us, we are told that this is not truly our ‘home.’ We are lovingly given an escape, a place we may feel mildly content. But we know the difference. We know very well that ‘home’ lies somewhere deeper.
As for now, I will be content with this earthly disorder and claim my ‘home.’ As for the unknown future, I do know that I will eventually be content, Home at last.
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Popular Poems
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Falling is Expected
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Not a moment lost
You push yourself to extremes
In your mind you speak
Invigorating words
An enemy of time
Your actions are quick
‘Harder and faster’
Your invisible goal
Passing time and space
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Poets
