But the beauty, is in walking - we're betrayed by destinations. ~ Gwyn Thomas For every pause you've taken, see the path you've covered thereafter. For every sigh that weighed you down, there was a string that tugged you ahead. Come see what that beacon is...


And it's times like these,
When it's hard for you to please
The hearts, that beat in unison
With yours, that seems robbed of fun,
When gasps replace your breathing
And just an ickle sets you seething,
When your guts wrench and spill
In repressed tears that don't seem to still;
That is when I pray - with my febrile heart -
That is when I pray you discover the art
That defines your soul
Freeing you from your 'role'
I hope then, that you will find hope
Within each pulse
That threatens to dull,
Within each ache
I pray, you find the sweetness
That comes after the release
Of the peak of pain
And you know it's not in vain;
And that to keep going
Is everything that is there,
To keep hoping
Is the only speck mere,
That that sack of blood
Needs, to not burst
Into an ocean of loss
And an abyss of ernst,
And to remind you to count,
Not your sobs,
but the worries that mount
Those shoulders of yours
That yearn to slouch;
I pray, you tick them off, into a list
Shrivelling them slowly
From tipping fingers, into a strong fist,
Seating them slow,
So that your way, you row
Someday soon
With that speck, that will grow
Into a beaming ray,
And float you your way-
To the endless waves' end,
To the shore that will mend;
And a tired bare foot
You'll step on the sand, with
The reminiscent tides washing your toes,
Tasting the same
As the now dried salt on your face,
Streaking a battle scar
Of a victory - your pace.
Yes darling, your win
will be your slow race
Coming in late, but patient in your wait.
And so the stroke of light
Will sheen at your smiles
And you will vow to hope always,
Looking back at the painted miles.
But oh! the shores sing their silence
Of peace and cadence,
Only after the cacophony
Of the storms bends.
"Hang-on" and "Let-go"
Seem to rip you apart, I know;
Thus all I say is,
Here, take a hand on
Clasp it to your thumping bosom;
Sob or bellow
Limp or shiver slow;
A comma may it be
Or if with ellipsis you work free-
Pick your pause and vent
Just don't end the statement.
Take your time,
But find your hope...
And yes, do this little thing,
You listen to me -
Just be.


  1. Love how three incredibly important ruminations are intertwined in this beautifully penned poem, viz. the indispensability of putting one’s feet up once in a while, finding refuge in art and to never stop hoping!
    And I hope that this piece of art serves as a gentle reminder for the same to all those in need…

    Can’t wait to read more of yours!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I feel utterly grateful that you were able to derive the essence of the piece with so much precision… Really glad such an amazing artist found this as helpful!💙 Much love !

      Liked by 1 person

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