On the white screen dance the stringed dots
Mind spilled codes of hieroglyphic thoughts
Slowly they emerge handholding lines
Not always yielding intended designs.
Something was brewing inside the head
Coaxing to weave and take it ahead
The drunken horses so wildly gallop
There is no leash to make them stop.
Nerves are taut and they won't relax
Till all is vented they reach the ******
It was thus fated the moment it was sown
What's to be grown could never be known.
As the fever wanes arrives the new child
It may be adored or it may be defiled
The canvas is washed clean as in the rain
Something is brewing to be vented again.

Pain in waves...
Lost inside...
Nowhere to turn to.
Nowhere to hide.
Desperate to make things better,
Unsure about how.
Where do i start?
What do i do now?
Children are a blessing,
But apparently i am doing it all wrong!
So much keeps coming....
And i am just not that strong!
Losing the fight to an ache that overtakes me.
I know the Lord provides.....
But right now i just cant see.

Ah the deep cold wind
races down from the North

Bundled up
we hike

All alone
the woods are ours

Alone