I’ve walked the straight less traveled life
Yet I fell for crooked, zigzag, broken ‘stumbles’
Who come with broken selfs and deep cracks
Complex hurting pasts, they want to
forget
Well, I maybe the glue that fixes
Or a balm that soothes itch or an ache
Or an ancient sweet smelling healing herb
That keeps burning and the aroma leads them to me
Truth is this herb’s love roots run deep
Gives a love so deep and treasures truly
Or maybe it did find its purpose
In being their drug, so they heal, so they forget their miserly
Or worse still
Maybe it’s also wounded, crying for help
With parts of its wailing from within
Bleeding, cracking, a hurting present that no one notices
So hence why it identifies with their pain
Beyond any healing It would ever give
It’ll need it first
It will need the nature’s light and strength to guide the blind and the weak
But first it has to commit to it’s own light
Before it can draw or lure anyone to itself
It needs to heal deep within and without
storiesitell, danzeblog