“No Stones Unturned…” Pg. 101.

Forget the past,

Let’s uplift the drapes.

Allow the light to seep in,

Well into the dark space.

Realism is confinement,

But idealism is refinement.

At times I am just dying,

But surrealism how I’m trying.

I overcome.

I withstand.

I overrun,

Out of quick sand.

And your energy, with our without it I am stronger by the day.

Like a fray.

I write this poetic expression in the day, and sometimes at night.

Unraveling my distraught mess,

In a way,

That says it is okay —

Through any dark plight.

Before I lay,

I have explored everything that I wanted to say…

Like a cobra’s spit, when he begins to sharp strike.