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third-eye-candyPoems
sprouting from the damp earth we trod from the muck into the sun and were glad in it. we found there, the space to waste time in and more space to explore with our riveting lives boiling in the womb of all wombs. we stride to the heavens undisclosed to religion. and on approach , we find gods in teapots steeping the illusions we crave over hot coals on a sinking barge. we are happy as we will the suffering to continue. but as a flock of flaming gulls we singe the night sky and the ocean below. they both burn as we commit to our purpose. each a sovereign fool and an angel shackled to a spot - on the Sun.
0
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC
Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted, counts.
sprouting from the damp earth we trod from the muck into the sun and were glad in it. we found there, the space to waste time in and more space to explore with our riveting lives boiling in the womb of all wombs. we stride to the heavens undisclosed to religion. and on approach , we find gods in teapots steeping the illusions we crave over hot coals on a sinking barge. we are happy as we will the suffering to continue. but as a flock of flaming gulls we singe the night sky and the ocean below. they both burn as we commit to our purpose. each a sovereign fool and an angel shackled to a spot - on the Sun.
third-eye-candy
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third-eye-candy
M/American
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC
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