by November 21, 2017 0 comments

Quarantine by quality is enough confinement.
Let us not add the angle of moral amplitude.
Woodsmoke of ceremonies fails to enter my
porch, connections fasten without formalities.

Tristfulness arrives with certain defiance as
though proving a point. I spurn its summon.
Like the gnomon, I light my mind’s wick to
usher me away from the lightlessness.

editors note:

Don’t need another’s compass to keep us in the light. We make our own choices. – mh clay

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