Wildfires a ball of blurry orangein a blank gray skythat has not knownits calming bluein too many days;the air stinks of ash,a harbingerof a futurewe continueto ignore
Healing the foamy crash's roarrides the windthat tousles my hair,the strong pullbeneath the surfaceburies my anklesin grainy sand;it repeatsagain and againas I stareacross the gray canvasstretching to the horizontime stands still,my soul knows peaceis this as closeas we cometo healingthe aches of our world
Permission let goit is donedon't let achewithin your bodyit was thenyou are nowit's okaynot to carrypast hurt
