The destination
Never was physical space;
Place is simple, time’s
Variable unknowable
Where existence is or not.

Hidden deep within
The drowning dark pleasure,
Breath, a sigh again;
Fear accursed pushed away,
Courage forced reality.

Soul dispersed, tangled
In webs suddenly affixed,
Loosely captured bound,
Silken syllables spoken
Whispers increasing repeat.

Hope born in hours
Without counting, unminded,
Where brokenness can
Never mend, but somehow less
Becomes if given peace, love.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

2020.06.26 Cones edit

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