clean slate,
fresh pace,
new beginnings.
different definition,
same old portrait.
refreshed illumination
encased in...
the very essence of
humble oblivion.
blended into a rush,
strokes within a brush,
personified, hanging on the cusp.
deep breaths of a
captivated wasteland.
got visions of a beautiful struggle,
but decide to chase sand.
grains slip,
from wrist to fingertip,
scent of frustration, it's linger strips
the nature of its slow drip
the faint strums of acoustic
and percussion's low hits
attention to detail facing tribulation,
but the moment belongs to the solstice
so the soul quips
in stride with the sole's hit
adjacent to the pavement
action imperative
resounding louder
than any other statement.
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