Brick Brickwork Ruin from Pixabay

Fissures In The Path Shored Up

Greg Prince
2 min readApr 28, 2019


Finding and claiming yourself again.

Do you always feel less than complete?
Not sad.
Living in an open cut.
Using every second to squeeze out each drop of make and do.
Yet we don’t bleed.
On the edge.
Teetering softly.
Success at fingertips but sliding past just out of grasp.
Do we feign winning to fit in a mold?
Catch a wave, do what we’re told?
Not complying.
Stand and face the tide.
Strong gravity pulling and showing sensible, rational ways.
Still deciding against conforming.
Reside in the rough, accept the cut.
Consume heart, happiness, sight.


Arrested in breath sighing in pale moonlight.
Time is peeking.
Enduring somehow to give a hint of hope.
Grasping at a new expanding scope.
There in the dinge grows a flicker.



Greg Prince

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.