A Gentle Death

I came to know my struggle
while sailing solo
on the winds of my regrets.

Having lost sight of where
I was headed,
only articulated the hole
I had dug.
listening to the birds sing
their songs above me
made myself crazy.

Hidden from view,
I’ve had to figure it out
on my own–
where the wind picked up
had only poured me over
onto the floor.
Laying still in the field
of grey, dust and dirt.

I couldn’t have thought
of anywhere I’d rather be.
The silence
had become all to real,
yet I couldn’t have asked
for anything more.

While listening to the wind
of pale leaves,
I pick myself up and bleed.
Because the path I see
before me leads to
a gentle death.

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