What a quagmire, life is.
A black hole of insecurities, and self-growth,
of lessons learned, in getting burned..
of falling, and rising back up every time..
of hurts, and worse, and a mountain of joyful bursts..
of wounds, and pain, and relive it again, and again..
of dreams fading with time, evident of deep brooding..
of times alone, and equal measure of business..
of love, and hate..
of worry, and confidence..
of new faces, and lost places,
of holding on, by fingers and nails,
of longing to travel, by plane, and rail..
of everything you can think of, we endure,
all in equal balance of one and the other..
all drifting like sand on beaches.. moved by the water..
this is life, and this is our path until death..
the one path we all walk on, the two doors, we walk through..
of this, we are familiar, of this we share the bond..
we are incarnates, from beyond.
(ddsonnenburg - (8-10-2014)