Photo by Artur Aldyrkhanov on Unsplash

Thursday, November 21, 2019

Walking for miles the dirt wouldn’t pave it.

A trail so narrow—the brush we burned it.

Until now is all what’s deserved.

The rest you’ll need to earn it.

A faith ever so birthed.

Not knowing the reward’s girth.

There it’s not, but hope past the next is a tree,

…of gifts for the pain’s in journeying.

What’s so bright would come undone.

Inner speakings for everyone.

You’ve done the good deed without a seed.

Approaching a promise and the watcher believes.

Into the gold two feet walk.

From the scent of destiny, the angels brew a welcoming.

Songs of joy, laughter, and upliftings hear love.

No utterings for breaths speak to it.

What we’d see through created aisles.

A star lit night for the wild-child.


Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

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