Before I turn
a simple torment,
feelings heavy and dark,
into a story of black and white,
I’ll whirl in a pool of crashing waves,
try not to drown as they fight.
As they try to figure out
what to call darkness,
what to call light,
and how to embrace
the forceful waves
that in due time, will push out
a newborn soul,
child-like but old,
hungry for life.
Spirit of Tara 