The soft egg shelled mind
is soiled and embroiled
by the terrible turmoil
of technological silence,
with a key board click
we once lost it
however now
in swift with sic stealth
the quiet imbeds itself.

Sorrowful seeds dropped
sowing painful thoughts.
Small sprouts
peek and poke out
through the surface
to catch us all
as unsettled earth
is disturbed.

Fierce floods of
painful stuff
erode the
fertile ground.

Stillness brings
crimson flowers blooming
and fruits falling
to rot on the dirt,
it hurts
but births
new verses,
till there is
poetry.