it's not certainty we seek or the great unknown not the house that breathes on brick and bone not the blood we bleed from sticks and stones or second-hand seeds from which we're sown it's not the church, the wash, the rinse, my constant search for innocence it ain't the words trapped in our lips the hidden hurt behind our ribs it ain't the gain for which we fight to see our names in neon lights the runaway, the fear of flight the nights we pray to get it right but, for the spark that moves our feet our beating hearts before we leap the reckless scars in fields of green the sea and stars hold one belief that we can't bleed if blood runs dry we can't defeat if we can't die and we can't leave until we try if we can't seek, we cannot find and we can't leave until we try can't seek without the gift of life —VSO

January 18, 2018 at 07:36AM