Lisa Rough

“She was the kind of elegance
That would never tarnish.
A mixture of lace and mesh,
Like a classic heirloom that begged to be worn.

She was sharp intellect and quick wit.
The type of woman that spoke her mind,
Even if it shook.
(Or even if no one was listening.)

She was beautiful.
But not someone you’d see in magazines,
Her hips were too wide, her hair a mess of wispy tendrils,
(Rather, she was actually very ordinary.)

My, was she stubborn! She’d drive you mad!
(Sometimes, you’d probably call her crazy.)

But mostly, her laughter was a joyful moments.
Like a warm towel fresh from the dryer,
Or finding a twenty-dollar bill in your winter coat.

And that was the true revelation.
That magic does exist,
It ran through her like a wild, fiery current.”
― M.J. Abraham

“To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, the dark ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and lonely, a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst. A strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn't stop until the last breath had been wrung from its body. The will to take one's place in the world. To say 'I am here.' To say 'I am.”
― O. R. Melling

“Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness.”
― Allen Ginsberg