Depression is,always there
Right under the surface
Following and hand in hand with chronic pain.
That thorns prick may be felt on the conscience
On the heart, mind and soul.
Autumns colors alight.turn to winters chill
What sun is left is watery light
Some know the Blackthorns Prick
The fester and roots spread and alight
Some, dont know the reason
Sadness that lasts beyond the season
Some fall away
To be thought of..
But left behind
Talking shadows on luminescent walls
Words disconnected from their light
What festers poison of souls in prison
Some of which were not decision
Only self derision
Huddle we do
Round campfires and reflective pools
Some look for warmth
Look and reflect
As yet taken aback.
Fools we are to think alone
That only the nite can be a home.
We were flame and spark and spring afire!
Amid the shimmering Gyre
Somewhere to fly to close to the sun
In shadows see
Yet with open hand
Hold a key...
There is so much more to say
But words are small wind for tattered wings
Dont be afraid to reach out and get help
Find a way.
The dark is always there
So is the Light
Be well Spiney