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THAT WISE BIRD

PHOTO BY PEXELS

A hollow in my heart.

Dungeon borders my soul,

Heavily guarded by an army of woes.

Dejection tramples on my spirit,

Kindred connections disbarred.

There is murkiness in the distance,

The road marred with desolation.

Oh this deafening silence!

Pungent taste of reality;

A realm I now dwell in.

Compression infests my movement,

But I persevere.

Stare without blinking,

Yawn without sleeping…

This pain is heavy.

Yet the notion to proceed persists within.

Song of the Sparrow,

In the touching distance.

Whistle of serenity; a sound of hope.

In an instant, my despondency effaced,

Like a mid evening fog.

I exhaled, with such precision.

The soldiers retreated and left for home,

Just as I was going home…

Never will I look back.

Should the pathway behind crumble,

Like an ill-fated stack of dominoes,

I will not see.

With the winds of change blowing at my side,

A singing Sparrow to symbolically guide.

Forward motion is now my stride…

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

TIMELESS

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

When the being passes on,
Departs this earthly life,
Soars into the hereafter.
Leaving behind a husk,
Of flesh and bone,
Hollow and foreign,
In front of weeping eyes.
The heart oblivious,
Filled beyond capacity,
Just as the day before,
When the spirit burned bright.
Perpendicular angles,
On opposite ends,
Contrary realms,
Infest sparingly in my head.
Inundated in thought,
My heart pulsated,
While yours stood still…
But this presence I feel,
Unshakeable and rigid,
I know deep down,
Is the fire of your soul.
Its validity infinite,
As my love for you…
You are here with me,
Inexplicably diffused,
Intricately manoeuvred,
In the gentle evening breeze.
The brightest star at night,
Aligning with my every stride.
Navigator to my intuition,
You lead me to the fountain.
These joyous elements,
Caress my sanity.
Snippets and fragments,
Systematic proof,
And authentic prelude,
Of immortality.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

FORWARD EVER

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

My faith blindfolded,
Credence camouflaged,
From this ardent love,
And fiery passion,
I have deep down for you.
Walking the tightrope,
To a blissful Utopia,
I leave dubious speculation,
Behind my shoulders.
Like a withered flower,
On a porous rock.
Spirited procreation awaits,
Spawn of a fervid twin flame.
Underneath satin clouds,
Among resplendent trees,
Where sunsets are a myth.
Love will flourish,
As the eternal blaze,
Continuously burns.
The tightrope I shall walk,
In my ebony aura,
Guided by this,
Immovable seedling,
Fixated inside of me.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.