Let Me Cry

Let me cry until I die, down in the gutter or flying high, let me cry. Let me be angry and hostile and cold, no matter what you have been told, let me cry.

When I cry, please don’t sigh don’t join in, you have no reason to cry. Let me be the real me, but most of all, let me cry. Give me a tissue to dry my eyes, put your arms around me as I fall from the sky, but most of all, let me cry.

You don’t have to understand why or know how I feel inside, just let me cry. You don’t have to act like a spy, trying to find clues to why, just let me cry. If your shame and embarrassment get in your way and you feel you must run away, then thats ok! just let me cry.

Tiny River

Tiny river trickling along the narrow channel, meandering along like a lazy camel. Twisting and turning down the mountainside looking for a path to take, somewhere to hide.

Slipping silently over moss-covered rock, gathering momentum picking up the pace reaching out to fill the cavernous space. Smoothing the rock face as it starts to race to the edge of oblivion to the side of its fate. Over the edge, the fine cascade dropping to the granite below in its continuous harmonious flow.

Gouging canyons, white water torrent, exploding cauldron of froth, descending into the distance sweeping debris away, casting its load aside as it hurries down to meet its death, absorbed by the ferocious vastness of the ocean.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2018