Motivation

My heart and soul move my feet, my speech, my dreams…
when they are dark, they kill my speed, stop my beat, flood my eyes, drain my spirit, and drown my light…
Curse of a hapless romantic with an absent prince charming.
Jokeless horses drift on a cloud returning in the morning as dew on the leaves…
in the fall, turn brown, drop, crumble into dust, blow away in the winter's wind…
Frostbitten fingers unable to gather, hold, grip what floats in the midst's.
Unrecognizable pieces lay desolate on the ground…
Easier to allow the elements to bury them deep within the earth.
Attempts to rekindle what has already been lost and now belonging to the wind
IS exhausting, unredeemable, and pretentious
to believe that one is more worthy and powerful than fait, destiny, and God himself
for he controls the horses, dew, leaves, and wind.
I control my heart, my spirit, my light, my love.
©Elizabeth Zsamboki