Beneath The Rubble

The Mind Is A Wandering Cathedral Of Rubble mixed with memory and fallen wood, plaster, stone and steal. Some see the soul through the eyes and others a glimpse of insanity. The high ceilings hold hopes and dreams and new beginnings.

Peel forward the flesh of the face to reveal truth. What is beyond this grey matter of past and preset and future tells the tales of your life, of hers and the moments of clarity not so available, except for under the epidermis.

Skin contains and keeps us. Safe and alive, it is shed every seven years allowing us to rebuild, reconstruct and rejoice in life. What was broken has been repaired, built up and reunited with the whole. Even under hidden layers of pain and madness and insecurities, hues of pink and pale connect and cast off the veil. This is an unveiling, an opening and a moment of truth full of what is, not of what was.

© Dallas J. Moore 2015

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