Poetry Sunday; I get it ...

E. Hunter

In can happen in the exhale of a breath and all that poise comes crashing down, and if you do this gracefully enough;

you’ll pause for a split second to take it all in right there on that ledge, and then this feeling of a vacuum, right?

Followed by thought after thought, moment after moment until you’re in that familiar little pit and sometimes you take comfort in its walls and allow it to hug that inner kid just a little bit.

But eventually you begin to claw your way up because it would be selfish not to.

I get it ...

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