The Cinder Path

There are some who traipse down a cinder path

they survived the lightening bolts exploding from the sky

They climb the same mountains that caused their stumble

they do not yield to unforgiving salty tears

they kiss the rose that pricks their lips

their love is chronic and in-toxic

They are creatures that know not precaution

they let sadness drown in a sea of golden promises

and warn their younger self against naive facts

giving new life to the meaning of survivor

imitating freedom as an active sport

practicing outside of a melancholic life

letting their guards down and

accepting agony like falling icicles

for wisdom has been embedded in trusted hands

too many battle scars, much more lived experiences

they chose to nourish the earth and Gaia

for siblings and their successors

Invoking an oath of resurrection

they are labelled winged free spirits

for others they are belle âme

because their words are as eloquent as their soul

and their tongues are coated with lotus leaves

they are forever hung to the web of empathy.

Today more than ever

more people need to lose the tree

and grow a forest of millefleur and fauna

to forfeit fitting all into a one-sized coat

but embrace the uniqueness of every soul

by following the cinder path

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