Our lives are constantly evolving,
looking for markers
and weigh points
by which to rest our tired souls.
Somewhere to anchor our boats
and stretch our toes come morning.
Our eyes are always open,
observing the pathways
as the pianists keys create an idea
that maybe there is hope.
Maybe all is not lost.
I’ve depended on lights to guide me home
for as long as I have existed,
never taking that false fall backward
to another’s waiting arms.
I’ve been my own brace,
my own crutch; level space.
The door is open..
am I to invite you in?
Writer and photographer from remote Labrador, Canada. Just another cold Labradorian chillin' in the Big Land. Can most likely be found walking my dog Grace or behind an iMac screen slowly taking over the interwebs.