Another writing exercise of setting the timer for five minutes and just let it flow.
It's so HARD not to go back and edit, but the truest you often emerges when filters are not applied.
discontented scribbles
the truth of stories that cannot be traded for popularity;
they'll keep moving along and like the changing moon
will find their place within a dark world that shifts
you also long to touch the Night
but its shadows halt your reach
I have left my footprints within the forest -
the heart may feel lost but it still knows to follow them home
a distant sea, tho its shores are known
I've been writing so long... moments, memories,
the joy and the tragedy
it always feels like home to me
So I write the words I cannot say
before the moment becomes a memory
too heavy to carry
I suspect there is a lot to unpack there.
Maybe one day such ramblings will become a unified and complete thing.
A bigger story.
Maybe they are just a collection of stories I'll never tell.
And the secret is to learn to live with both.
