The painting of words fell short

Of your intentions

 

The universe knows the truth

Thoughts with no action

Create a void of what could have been

 

Like an open wound about to fester

It poisoned the ground that nurtured it

 

And with a snap of my finger

Silence

The void disappears and

Blood-tipped thorns stop growing

From the chasm

 

Angels cloaked in black

The thorns turn into ravens

And fly away the regret

 

Words fall on my page 

And my own intentions flow

 

In movement 

Growth is how the universe dances