"Sacred Grove"
Overwhelmed at moments…
Clutter seemingly everywhere…
Days of unrest…
Tearing at my existence…
I turn to the printed page…
Thoughts put to Poetry…
My mind needs release…
From tears which flow inward…
Tears which fill my heart with terror…
Unwanted fear…
Unneeded pain…
I yearn for peace…
My escape to a place of beauty…
Taking this quill and parchment…
To place these tears…
In a perspective of understanding…
In this I take refuge…
In this I lay in solitude…
Serenity is again…
Mine to hold…
Poetry in prose…
This mans tears begin to flow…
From his heart… From his eyes…
Bringing this terror to its end…
Poetry is not a thing for this man…
It is a place…
My Sacred Grove…
To understanding…
My place…
To hold my own form…
In my own arms…
A place of beauty…
Stephenmichael…
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