There will be times
When you will cling
To that one thing
In the midst of chaos
That seems so secure,
And there will be times
That you leave
Because staying
Is killing you.
And, in reflection,
The impetus behind
Both of these actions
Will seem so clear
While in the moment
It was all so murky,
And you WILL reach out
To ANY light on the horizon
Until you learn
To hang a light,
By your own front door.
© H.H.
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
Handbag Designer, Blogger, Petite Apparel Maker
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
hoping for more - with Kira Shymn
Curriculum, explicit instruction, intelligent assessment, leadership and history
I am a lover of perseverance. I am folklore. I am consistency and contradiction.
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A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.
Backpacking, more or less
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a resource for moving poetry
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Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy
OverTheHillsAndFarAway 
This light that hangs by the front door… If only we could buy it at Home Depot.
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