Compass Poem by Rickardo BecklesBurrowes
Compass
With love, the road darts tree branch like
sometimes to the sun, sometimes brittle-breaking
lifting spirits boundless without measure
or cutting flesh to bone, ripping you vulnerable-cold,
simple artistry unfolding in perpetual need
dependent on the oxygen love omits
tracing mortals back through conflicted experiences,
through space, time - to the beginning,
asking to never stop believing!
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9/21/2024 8:07:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
