something so live
cannot stay still
or pace in prescribed patterns
indefinitely
though it is almost
civilized into submission
I remember wildness
roaring or purring
through my blood
wisdom that dream-talks
and says I am made to hunt
to gather together and share
the fruit of my roaming
not spend my days like pennies
counted up and saved
but those pennies rolled
and spinning on the floor
the counting table tossed over
and the door
on broken hinges
left open
You tried to fly in the blue sky, and I loved the way your wrote this. It is beautiful. Blessings, dear.
Thanks so much, Pawan.
Really diggin it
Thanks, Ian 🙂
Spirit, free. Soar. And say hello to JLS if you encounter him in the skies.
Thanks, Nelle–I will! One of my favorite stories…
Understood beyond explanation [to me].
Thank you 🙂