(I wonder if parentheses
ever see all the letters
caught in between them
and feel that distance
as though it is tangible;
if they ever crave
to be close enough together
so they could intertwine
until their inkscratches
collide to incoherence;
if you’ve ever noticed
how your right hand ellipses
and curves just like a parenthesis,
and how my left hand is its opposite.)
They walk.
Every footprint in the sand a hopeful memory,
Leaving the world to shudder and shed
Deciduous darkness.
Shadows may creep amongst the corners,
Taking root in the subconscious and entangling one in fear,
But as with all nightmares, a hug is all that is needed
To brighten up the moment.
All it takes is a spark to light a bushfire,
A tiny inkling of faith, hope and empowerment,
The strength of character to recognise the illness,
The courage to fight it,
And the grace to transcend into bliss and harmony.
They walk.
Embracing the world in ready arms,
They bring everything and nothing to the world
And all of existence.
T