writing

Late to arrive, later than the rest,we sneak and we snake our way to the midst Hardly invited,but here nonetheless,on time—right on time—we insist we insist Curious and starved,parched and alone,we worry and fret over chances we missed Maybe this feeling,is initiation,maybe the spoils are for those who persist Still these reveries,of food and of   →

brief candle in the storm, cold hands hold a starby doubt and the rain, by the darkness my love, we are surrounded my love how long have we walked,too far to go homethe night asks of me, do you light the way do you