Hold on to Your Radiance

Unhappiness, discontentment, dissatisfaction, disappointment: all will make contact with one's heart. None will make an appearance without the company of another. In those moments of indefinite vulnerability, all will strike in one blow in an attempt to seize any light and smother it. Falling into this sense of darkness will only augment the difficulty to see a sliver of light in such a thick-walled prison. One must push away the fear of loss and inability and let the radiance of his heart lead the way back to a brilliant dawn. Don't lose grip of a positive scope.

The Race

Running along the edge.
Pebbles tearing naked feet.
Bricks flying in pursuit.
Closing on their target.

Legs pumping rapidly.
Oxygen hastily circulating.
Adrenaline cascading within.

Knees buckle.
Race lost.

Defeat?

Audrey Lynn

Corruption Lingers

Innocence is brought into the world at birth, but at some point, corruption begins to singe each nerve. Soon, a fire burns, hidden behind a broken compass. Over time, the compass is either mended or left to deteriorate. If left to rust, the stagnant corruption will break free, creating a monster of agony. This creature is in every one of us, waiting to be exposed. But we can teach ourselves and each other how to mend the compass inside each of us. We all have a choice; we can choose what kind of person we want to be. You can choose to conquer corruption.

This picture is of my gorgeous, now one year old, nephew.

Tent City

I was out one day, and someone very dear to me was showing me around the parts in downtown St. Louis where the homeless live. We ended up walking along the river, as he intended to show me Tent City. And it is just that, a little city made of varying tents. These can be camping tents, or a makeshift house made from what's around, and people reside there. The thing about inner St. Louis is that it used to be gorgeous. Classic architecture, booming businesses, simply a wonderful place. Now it is left to ruins; the place is crawling with abandoned buildings, factories, and railroads, and covered in graffiti. Despite this, it was a memorable adventure. I was given a chance to glimpse how people survive when they have little to nothing. As we were walking back, we both saw a simple message graffitied onto a wall, "Everything was beautiful...." Needless to say, we had to photograph it. It says so much in those three words. Just imagine what could have been. How much hope is left in that little city that things could once again be beautiful? What are you willing to do to feed that hope?

Shadow of the Moon

My fingers remain unmoved,
the pen runs dry,
the pencil crumbles away;
my silent words empty.

The sweet composition
of conception settles gently
underneath a white light
and clear shadows.

Within the depths
lies a buried purity
between each heart and soul;
from here poetic reflections fall.

Such words speak of age,
questioning growth in wisdom, fear.
Enigmas hidden behind guilty
shadows of the subconscious, revealed.

Forgotten secrets, lost in nightfall,
uncovered each evening by pure
light as my words descend
from the shadow of the moon.

Audrey Lynn

Master Flame, Teach Me to Burn

The water burns,
   but the fire does not cool.
Instead they work together,
   carving streaks of third
      degree burns into my skin.
They shorten my match
   yet feed my flame;
      they teach me to strike,
         quickly and unsuspecting.
My scarred face learns to show
   no emotion as I make you fall,
      engulfed in flame and
         suffocating in water.

Audrey Lynn

Bloody Opaque Sky

A poem to start this off...

The trail ahead is a

trend of gray scale,
a smokey sky spattered
with drops of blood.

Beneath traveling feet
are jagged fragments,
never leaving a smooth
surface to step upon.

A pawn is forced forward
despite its better judgment.
Footsteps later debris is flying,
blood gushing into the smoke.

No other option but to be
pushed along a broken gray
road awaiting further
destruction of the body.

The light, any light, is gone.
Eyes venture, trying to see past
the opaque sky but succeeding
only in ceaseless despair.

The sound of soaring metal
whizzes past sensitive ears.
Drums explode internally, blood
cascading down a neck, bare chest.

The pawn travels onward,
finally stopping in a stupor.
A single ray of brilliance
reflects off a red body.

The first light such pale skin
has seen in surrounding gray,
it shines off floating waste
and engulfs the beaten pawn.

The red spattered smoke wipes
clean the soaking skin,
reviving the wounds and
deepening the crimson sky.

Restriction looming overhead,
feet moving as summoned,
legs become more secure
to veer off to their own path.

The sharpness beneath the feet
clears away and the smoke
fades to a translucent curtain
in front of resolved eyes.

The wind picks up heavily,
wrapping around and around,
shielding the body as it
takes the first fearless side-step.

Audrey Lynn