Fallen Trees

Lost to the ravages of time
Was the golden that used to be mine
That holy light
I’d touch the air and ignite
Now, no more
Every knock upon a closed door
But like she said
When different demons were in my head
Sometimes the way
Is made so you can’t even say
Yes to this or no to that
All you know is you can’t go back
In your dusty boots
Stumbling the rest of the route
Any water, please?
No, my dear, learn how to grieve
In the arid sun
I guess there’s still a Golden One

Image Credit: Huff Post, Becoming a desert girl

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