The sun rises Anticipation, then- the anxiety of becoming flawless. Which way is right? I still don't know. As I feel the clock glaring at me behind my back, I wonder if my soul will ever show. Blank page, cluttered mind. Sharpened pencil, dull emotions. I start to sweat Another day can't go past unanswered. I must Write. Create. Find something divine. But all I seem to be able to do is waste time. I sigh, take a break. Grab another cup of coffee And take a walk down the empty street. Only bitter coldness greets me here. Biting all the way down to my core. I find myself at the end of the street. About to turn back, as weary as before When a sight catches my eyes A flower Among the dead and decaying leaves, It still manages to rise. In the last light of twilight, I see its bright blue glow. Thank you. For a crucial reminder: Even in the middle of winter, A flower can survive and grow.
All of your undefinable works of majestic godliness.
ex: "The Grizzly Grandma's Boy"