mud is everyone,
banded together,
who is down on their luck,
soulfully,
all crying at once.
rain is all of the soloists
in the cloud choir,
almost silently singing
in their passing
as one.
a tree in the summertime
is showing the read
of all their unturned palms
yet having no fingers
that function.
concrete is all the positives of surface,
somewhat smoothly banded together
as if picture perfect,
smiling for a selfie.
taking the yoga of bias-ness class daily.
working on thought-form postures
resulting in prejudice and intolerance,
to gain attentive methods of self in re-discovery.
watching the tongue of the mind
making attempts at articulations
that feature exactitude,
as if deep thought could speak
and understanding gaining a full presence.
No comments:
Post a Comment