So much can happen in a space of 2 weeks. To a phoenix soul, it is several lifetimes wrapped in a microcosm.
A thousand soul-crushing deaths. A thousand hopeful re-births, spluttering, fluttering of wings, tentative first steps back into the cruel world.

To the naive, the brave, the wise say,
do not go gentle into that good night.
rage, rage against the dying light.

....................................

Dec 04, 2014

There is poetry my soul sings I cannot hear.
Days when it blazes in vivid reds and yellows,
and days when it sputters and chokes, and barely makes a sound.

.....................................

-eeda