Quietly Wild

I am coming back to myself
Slowly
Following the faint smell of burning leaves
Watching for new moonlight
Walking and breathing
Behind me wreckage lies
Before me cinders fly
Leading me to the pyre
But I do not burn there
I burn here
Quietly wild
Cinders on the wind
How I long to roar!

Quietly Wild

Picture Credit – Pexels

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It’s obvious that when the apocalypse comes, I will be one of the weak people. I will have no spin kicks with which to defend myself. I will have only the magic of my words and my understanding to protect me. I will be meat for the beast. (Unless I can engage him in conversation.) And I am fine with that. If my death at monstrous hands becomes imminent, I hope I can meet it in a lounge chair, sipping on a gin martini.

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