Ragged
This half-finished sacred thing,
an everything, lost and faded,
worn ragged, dull to the touch
yet bright, fortuitous, strong
in its unopposing fight to be.
We only half belong to anything,
set our sails and drift free,
search a straight fix unending
til the skies say it’s final,
this, our only reckoning.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 21, 2020
beautiful
ReplyDeleteThanks Laura. Cheers for stepping by :) Have a lovely Monday.
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