sometimes it's easy to abandon all musings
on
cosmic folly & rolling hills ....
to take up a fist of soil & work the earth thru the passing of the hours,
to battle amongst those who can look sky ward and see no stars
see no force there
but blue.
to rumble along ignorant of ardor & fascination & truth
merely to delude oneself into thinking that this is how it should be ....
hard work and sleep make up the days ....
habit follows habit follows habit ... follows
into the yellow chalk-outlined box of tomorrow
until
something slips,
something tilts ....
into a particle of possibility
perhaps it is a smell on the wind
a song on the radio while strolling thru the frozen foods looking for
bright green peas and razberries
something awakens in the pit of your chest
the bone of your thighs
the spaces in your heart
the burn stirs
and you hope and want and yearn and breath
in
him .
.... and all events and passions and senses
collide to entice you to rattle the bars of your cage
to stomp and shout and
mark your scent upon the piece of
sky & earth
that calls you
home
