Toxic flow of fumes, some darker than the night sky, and others, floating without recognition from the eyes, into our atmosphere

Danger lurks around the corner with offensiveness and a lack of attention

Keep your eyes peeled for those florescent glowing signs that draw your attention with guidance

Moving with might
Following potential
refracting metaphorical light
Becoming apart
Of what gives people life

Selfless balance
Of give and receive
If the roots are affected
Then so are the leaves

If roots are
Not grounded,
Not watered
Not nurtured

Some leaves unwholesome
Some wilted
Some lonesome

Little do we know
The leaf is wanting to let go
Anticipating renown
To return to the soil
To avoid the turmoil
Of what it is to grow

" If "doesn't feel
Anything is real
Then it may keel

To avoid the hearth
Creep into the earth
Be lead to ascension
Strong In ground
Trunk,
Branches,
Long to astound  
Constant extension

Leaves can regrow
Even when low
Growth can be slow
Growth can be fast
Leaves will come and go
Your roots will last

That golden color is no more valuable than a penny, fills each valley as its been for moments while there's nothing to hear out side of her ears other than mother natures breath. For now her discernment is a monster of despair that doesn't lay under her bed. She gazes at her joints while contemplating her lack of courage to remember that the tiger inside of her that lashes against all of the village will not be doing the same to her. The righteous act of stillness is what is motivation to put down what isn't really mine. The shiny pointed sculptures of paper that some know as a tool for creation named scissors, that need to cut inanimate objects, not my vessels containment for natural life. I let myself fill my cup with spirits that I don't drink, but bathe in.