Journal

Each piece of me is in its pages, Even as the tempest rages, The darkness I fight, Even as I anticipate heaven’s light. It’s a window into me, My sojourn across tempestuous sea, I script my today, As I glance through yesterday. It’s a door into my chamber, As I write when I’m called from my slumber, My love for nature and the arts, I share some parts. The memories of bloom, The gloom that pervades my room, They find away into it, It bears all that are deemed fit.