Path of Passion

A sunburst in your bones

Igniting a slow burn

In the depths of your soul.

The crawl of passion

Through your veins

Vibrating awake desires unknown.

Oblivious to reasons of can’t,

You forge a path

With determination as your guide.

Obsession with completion

Insulates your heart

From the cold blasts

Of rejection and invalidation.

You have become

Your own light,

Burning away all wisps of gloom,

With a caress of an impassioned finger.

You are galvanized

By your own flames.

Impervious.

Unstoppable.

Brittnie Faulkner

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Morning Coffee

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The warmth spreads,

Fingers curling around the chilled porcelain

Sliding upward and upward

Until the edge is reached.

A dance begins as fingers touch air,

Filmy white floating on,

Carrying with it the scent

Of comfort,

Of content,

Of well-being.

Reaching from the air,

It blankets your soul with love.

A breath,

A sigh,

A welcome,

A pause before the dawn breaks.

Contemplation for the day ahead,

Gratitude for the day behind.

A chance to sip,

To breath,

To be.

 

Dark Butterfly

A fog so thick

You can’t see your thoughts

The person you once thought of as self

Starts to be pulled into the

Pitch black that was once

Your working mind.

 

Doubt begins to replace

Knowledge

Frustration replaces

Patience

Happiness becomes

Sadness

And bravery becomes

Fear.

 

Wave after wave of

Pungent froth forces its assault

Until every trace of

You

Is erased.

 

There are legends,

A myth passed on,

Of some wondrous few

That refused to be victims and

fought through to the other side.

The story they tell is

To know the maze within the

Dark.

It is the acceptance of a

Journey back to the center,

To find a way through

The ominous veil

Means a search greater

Than that for the

Fountain of youth.

 

These brave and few, though

Have nothing but a dim guiding light,

No map exists to share.

Knowledge of a path is no

Knowledge at all.

What is for one

Can make others fall.

Each journey must be owned,

Each flight must be selfish,

For each butterfly is unique.

 

A terrifying choice must be made;

To remain in the depths and

Seek no path of change

Is absolute death of self.

 

To begin a voyage with a

Long leap into the hands of

The butterfly to tame it

Is hope.

 

 

~By Brittnie Faulkner

 

Keep Writing

 

 

Sweep

With each push of a broom

An un-needed part

Is moved away.

Farther from your core

Into the bin of rubbish.

These pieces aren’t needed,

Not by you,

Not by those who love you.

Sweep away the trash,

Sweep away the memories

You don’t need

So the ones your want

Have more room.

Sweep away the negative thoughts

For the positives to take hold.

Sweep away all of the clutter

In your mind,

Your body,

Your soul.

Make room for better

Bigger things.

Clear a path for yourself

To be who you need to be.

~Brittnie Faulkner, 2016

 

Keep Writing~

B