by Theresa C. Gaynord
…to ride the flames with dogwood trees,
in marmalade heavens over the burn;
to soar and plunge, and hermit like a dove,
hovered above water in a horizontal glide.
To give yourself to angel's wings, within a
single moment of surrender, to lose sight
of lights bobbing just for you in the dark;
lest you be lost again and never return.
…and in the madness of this hillside path,
is the poet's origin of misery. Space has
bequeathed it to me at the end, where I rise
and fall; too heavy for guilt, too light for
© 2019 Theresa C. Gaynord
Theresa likes to
write about matters of self-inflection and
personal experiences. She likes to write about matters of an out-of
body, out-of-mind state, as well as subjects of an idyllic, pagan
nature and the occult. Theresa writes horror, as well as concrete
gritty and realistic dramas. Theresa is said to be witch and a poet.
(within the horror writing community).
Find more by Theresa C. Gaynord in the Author
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