My pen, in constant pursuit of zephyr laced words, free falling with the ink whilst overcoming the blank white masses. Words, they pave a golden path to my “aha” moments --- or to the beginnings of some. Wrapping up, summing together, tying the knot, leading home, folding the bow — a beautiful revelation luminously singing back at me, aligning with every molecule deepest in my fabrics. Poems, my resounding prayers, sung unto the heavens, never forsaking & never returning null. My breathe becomes the poem, the poem my breath, the rhythm but a prayer and the voice returning, much like a castle in the sky ---  hope.



JournalTess Guinery