dancing to the push
of a forceful world,
blowing history,
evoking visionless traditions.
Every strand is accounted
as woven and thread,
with security in the routine.
I never saw a single,
individual stalk
stand straight up
towards the Heavens,
or the opportunity that occupys
the morning Sun.
All I can see
is this ocean of one.
No comments:
Post a Comment