like warm toast, buttered, melting.
Hot chocolate Sundays with a book.
this surrounding wall,
it’s been so long I forget most things, and most things deserve to be forgotten, because all that matters now is the emergence into a new forever flight on board to the stars
no longer warm
crisp and cold,
the vigour of change.
The loud clang of me on the verge of my discovery.
I sat in a dark space with a wise woman once,
she said to me,
‘when we are young we give birth to our children.
when we are old, we give birth to ourselves.’
We give birth to ourselves a thousand times.
Hayley M Clearihan
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