Madness
in the quiet corners
of my skin,
a current of heat
beneath words,
beneath breath.
It winds
around me
like a labyrinth:
walls soft,
shadowed,
doors whisper
echoes.
Still,
I do not follow.
I gather
myself
from the noise,
from storms
brushing
against my name,
and cradle
the ember
that beats within me.
It does not cry,
it does not beg;
it glows,
patient fire,
untouched
by their games.
And in the hush,
after the tremor fades,
I drift
into reverie,
tracing
the shape of myself
when the world
grows loud.
Not the storm,
not the echo,
not the madness
but the flame
that remembers
how to burn.
Dear CG,
I enjoyed this write and the feel of a quiet whirlwind it created for me. The energy of finding a minute to invite quiet thoughts only to be compounded and interrupted with the mess of my chaos…terrific write. H🌷
[Where you been hiding?]
Thank you, Honoria. I’m glad the quiet and the chaos both found you here. Your reading means a lot.
Powerfully penned, CG. Another excellent write with many layers my friend. Nicely done. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian. I’m grateful the quiet layers found you.