Growth, love, morning, Soul, the color of moments

Hope for the New Year


I grapple in the noontime sun
My heart fits and pounds in the panic of a scared person lost in the night
My words–a live confessional journal calling out–muffled from below the heaviest pile of knots
Life… It is a new year
Life… I hope for the soft blurring of the lines of my deep contradictions
I hope for the glow of rose-quartz-colored sunsets
I hope for contentedness
I hope that hope will stick
I hope it will stay sticky and ooze light all over and into the cracks of this deepest dark-night-of-the-soul
I hope contentedness comes with the certainty of morning

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