Untitled 6

Turning off your mind

Autopilot flights

Telling northern lights

Beauty of the lack of sight.

–

And every five

We fight the mind.

We idolize

This idle time.

–

But now how will

We work this dough?

Like sturdy Rearden

Or soft Thoreau?

–

This water scene is seeming keen.

Sunset boughs and pinkened dust.

Abandon warehouse caked with rust.

A dozen metaphors washed upon the softly lapping shore.

But these trees have dependencies.

Conflictions arise.

Migrations arose.

Waist deep in the waterfalls

And spirals we chose.