Precariously deliberate.
Feeling the earth
Take a deep, lumbering sigh.
Bound
For an eternity
My fate doth wonder.
Seconds
Count for years,
Children slowly shed
Their outer skin
To reveal
Something amazing.
Caught in silk and satin
My true love
Awaits.
I sit at the silver bus stop
In between beehive glory
And blurred existence.
Almost there secretly communicated.
Burned ruptured hole
For seeking, creeping, and spying in.
The wind
Shows many things.
Spots on soft reality
Flutter by on blue, gossamer wings.
Trailing lime-life wonders.
Hollow, clear skin
Encasing bright. Blooming organs.
Your organs.
Staring at a body that’s yours
Yet as much of a stranger
As you are
Towards the world
Around you.
Frothed by something more,
I lay
Beneath an old Oak Tree
Discovering that time
Is linear
And does not exist.
This tree
And I
Are one in spirit.
We breathe
Through skin, bark, and leaves.
Eat through
Sunlight, meat, and water.
Laugh through
Lips and roots.
Feel through
Both our beating hearts.
Balancing between moments.
The sticky stuff,
Not caught on tape.
The longing or the heartbreak.
The silent crying
And the slow-tuned
Humming.
The glimmer
In your eye
Ignites flames,
Which inhale fire, growing more hearty
As my wind covers
It’s cowering head.
Reaching up higher
And higher still
To touch
What was once easy
And now, is out of reach.
That Oak Tree
An I
Are just alike
Bowing down
To all emotion
Calling
And passage.
It is my time to be here;
Cemented
Inside vast particles
That sandwich within a structure
Of your soul.
Why so soon?
Why now?
It is because
the Oak Tree feels it
To be.
And so, it shall be.
wonderfull
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