When the clouds move in,
find a yellow boat
to take your tangled hair
and untamed heart
out to the horizon.
To the place where
rough seas are not feared.
The place where the shifting winds
sing about the consistency
of change.
Sure as the clouds move in,
they shall move out.
Sure as the sun descends,
it shall rise soon after.
Sure as the heart breaks,
it shall be glued back together.
Sure as the soul leaves,
it shall return again.
Sure as your mind questions,
it shall rest
(finally)
in the answers.
When you ache,
don’t focus on the clouds.
Find your yellow boat,
the state of heart
that will (somehow) transport you
to the wise one
who holds the rope
and the anchor.
It was already dropped
long ago.
You cannot venture out alone too far.
—deborah quibell
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