This life sings its own song,
If I let it.
Red velvet loosely covers my sins.
Loving is powerful,
Trapping and freeing.
Singing it sends me home.
I feel it rising,
The hopeful burn,
Singeing its way out;
Never to return.
Loving is gritty,
Sensational and wild.
Sometimes gentle but mostly a paradox
That’s hard to hold,
Hard to see,
So involving.
Our brains are dual;
Both critic and sage.
Crisis and compassion
Compete for control.
The context is critical,
Triggering.
“And that’s okay,”
Says the sage,
Soothing with a light touch
Once again.