the bare strands stand wiry
thought it through
wondering where it will lead
consciously forming ideas
what is being searched for
what is the necessity
might not be enough time left
or one might think
what would I know as I silently sink
deeper down
the circles soon pass
with all of the cold
winter dying grass
below the feet
where I walk
words and ideas distorted
when I talk
close the mouth
no one in sight
heading south
darkness of this night
cannot think of all these things
don’t know what the darkness brings
from far away and up on high
why can’t I stay in that clearest sky
so blue then night time black
the killer bees will come and attack
those crazy veins where warmth flows
only three inches but dread the snows
might not be deep these words still see
a truthful meaning what could it be…
No comments:
Post a Comment