rift . . .

to touch the bottom of the well
again ....
to get messy & bruised
to feel less than & taste acrid defeat
to hold the blossom that is days possibility
or
stroke the weariness of ignorance
and allow the amber fracture to vibrate
again ....
with the stored ache of a thousand years
to the breezed smell of a distant blue-salt-release
hands grasp the carbonate ego'd stone
and
cooling is required
trust & cooling ....