Push. Pull. Resist.
The tug of the soul’s persistent quest to belong to the Whole
Answers. Self-Denied

Crushed like distant hearts

favoring the solace of bitter tonic,

grey skies,

and the way the mind spins its own illusions of golden fields

I knew you were right

But I chose wrong

And the song repeats its chorus

Where faith breaths as reliably as chilly morning mist

And the soul twists into itself again