I feel alive and I love it.
It's just me, and yet it's not.
The rush of thoughts no longer remains.
It seems that a part of me, that hasn't been, is finally at peace.
The cold brings warmth, the gentle light, hope.
It's places like this which are the most perfect.
Because they haven't been touched, they haven't been scarred, they haven't been changed.
They're just them, and it's perfect.
If only our whole lives could be spent like this.
But they aren't, and that's what makes them worth living.
They surprise in every moment, and yet the feeling that this was to come.
The tears we shed because of grief, and the laughter that brings delight that follows.
The simplicity of moments, and the complications of life.
It's not anywhere near perfect.
Maybe, that's why it's so perfect.
YOU ARE READING
In Ink: A Collection of Poetry
Poetry"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, but learning to dance in the rain" Vivian Greene Some different poems, all written by me
