Stand Still. Be Quiet. – A Poem

Sometimes all the pieces,
Escape me,
Like the ends of kite strings,
Slipping through fingers.
Truths that want to be free,
Want to leave me,
Without the cloud of cover,
Nothing to hide within.
Grasping after,
The drifting vapor of illusion,
Of frozen thoughts,
Melting in the warmth of weary time.
Don’t expose me,
To this fluid chaos,
I will plunge once more into the
Safety of the ice,
The solid security of,
Everything still, quiet,
Breath held.
Me held,

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