Words swirl in his throbbing head
Resting just behind his sweating head
The time to depart mysterious
Causing ventricles to swell in size
Searching to relieve the pressure
His concave chest beat like a drum
Spilling into the untame world
Indifference paints the conundrum
To speak is to judge
To listen is to prepare
Doth better to follow the patient guide?
Or unfurl arrows on those sans care?
Silence is golden, doffing to film
In light, nuggets more akin to dung
Like the color of hackberry branches
Freshly torn from their rung
Therefore he waits, to ponder more
Trepidly defers to the wind
Torn palm open for boomerang
A returning chore does he tend
You can’t let life happen to you; nor can you plan your own life. Just listen and observe to what the world puts in front of you, and respond accordingly.
1 comment:
i really feel this explains my porn experience to the layfolk and myself. you got me about the concave chest... somehow posture is closely related.
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