The seasons do little in flavoring the human spirit as they once did before, each one passing, coming and going as the feast of life continues.

Burnt memories flavor the tongue enraging any present thought, As the taste of happiness lingers on the lips of those who once knew it’s indulgence.

It weights  heavy on those who insist on carrying each morsel of pain, struggling unaware they have eaten the bitterness of false realities.

I once tried to walk by the buffet of illusion’s, with the strength of my own will, only to lose for the temptation was to great.

Gorging on  the unknown creating a future belly ache, that  unwitting rose to the surface.

Cramping engulfed each step I took bringing me to an infants crawl, from a forced fours I was guided to pray on two bended knees.

Divine light began to nourish me with the taste of grace and mercy, for the feast of life had become to much for this frail soul.

Learning that each season with patience will bring it’s own flavor and that only Divinity can fill the hungry soul. 

love, light, joy

Sona