A Cow’ring Flower

I am a cow’ring flower, thinking the sun in all its gold extends itself to burn me; a rigid stem, wrestling the wind as if it meant to break me; a leaf, startled at the touch of rain, convinced that it will drown me. I am a forget-me-not, knowing little and thinking far too much.

Pseudo-wisdom

You think too highly of yourself, oh mind, to answer questions God as yet has not. It is a wisdom of the baser kind that storms His silence with unbridled thought— for who can cypher symbols from the dark or wrangle possibility to stage, to poke and prod and deftly pin the arc of Spring’s […]

melenoria

overthinking

A Cow’ring Flower

Pseudo-wisdom