The Willow

The Willow
A cold shadow standing firm. A sad skeleton on the surface, but holding a promise of hope, deep within. Swaying in the icy wind, embracing the torment of the storm and season all to bring forth life and beauty. Unashamed of its own lack of color, praise, and admiration, it dutifully stands fast fulfilling its purpose. A quiet passionate promise.
- Shy Willow

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Letting Go

Letting Go
by: Shy Willow

Into my eyes and see the pain yet neither flinch nor recoil. 
Stories bathed in irony which dance in both rays of warmth and also the frosty bite of reality. 
Too many times the door left open gets closed behind suffocating and trapping. 
How often the energy turns from fire that feeds to one which takes life away.

Into the fire, the flames which grow and consume.
Lives bathed in irony which dance in the energy we've learned to trust and lean on.
No longer do we thrive in the boxes which we build to hide, no longer must we have doors.
An ache all to familiar we felt, an ache we tried to fill, is now free to burn.

Into my life and see the beauty which I see in every life.
Expressions of art bathed in the energy of passion, released from the purest of places.
Enticed, pursued, romanced then captured and wed with the breath of freedom.  
Into our eyes the energy, better understood, despite the pain, brings comfort and ease.

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