A slightness,
In a way of being,
That is so delicate.
Like a flock of birds,
The thought of a feather
Falling,
Lightly supported by the wind.
I wonder if I’m in tune
To experience life intimately
Ideally
Or rather, only believe I am.
The restlessness forever a passenger
Who rides unwanted by my side.
Though, an image of my future self
With a calmness of mind
Allows another breath of thin air to coat
my lungs,
Just enough to keep me alive,
Not quite enough, leaving me breathless.
No comments:
Post a Comment