The Witnessing..

I set atop a precipice not saying a word..

just watching...

all things flew..

sometimes violently.

Moments contradicted themselves.

*

In that time-frame,

becoming apart of the storm,

was the chosen method of....,

abstraction..??

it was the easy way out.

of what?

life I guess;

life;

the way it was...

~

Under camouflage a moth stays hidden.

Once the gaze turns inward,

the moth awakens..

reflecting the glimmers that call it to the surface.

And cries that never knew they were suppose to be,

are feathered away........