Butterfly words

.. flit through the heart, like the prickle of pain on old scars stretching.

"Hope is home, and the heart is free."


Words held like a rosary through many long nights, faithless words, empty words, words that fought to live across years and years. Strong words, resonating with wisdom I could not comprehend, words that I cling to, with faith not quite blind but not quite seeing either. Because seeing is believing, after all.

This one was copied from "love affair"