Mosaic

Down by the banks of my childhood river are the rocks and the shells, the shrapnel of old; If I let you in, let you see my mosaic, I fear I’m too much of a thing to behold. So tides turn and billow like seasons of soul; mistakes yield to lessons like sand to theContinue reading “Mosaic”

The Tunnel

When you get to the end of the tunnel, it won’t be what you thought it would. Where you’ve arrived pales in comparison to the beacon it looked to be when you were on the other end. This isn’t because where you are now isn’t beautiful or incandescent, but rather because there is something unexpected:Continue reading “The Tunnel”