Image credit: Unsplash by Robin Benad
I once could breathe
wholly and deeply-
because I was outside
myself,
looking in...
“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
It is only with calloused hands that the heavy body can claw and leverage the self upward on the thorny vine of a life without wince and whi...