He's a streamlined man,
now on the road to return.
The spirit farmer,
taking breakfast in the fields,
found his sister soul
and his woman of the world.
He was running blind
with no aerial boundaries.
To communicate
he would watch his life go by
because it was there,
the taproot, the naked stalk.
Free swinging soul, with
silent anticipations.
A Phoenix fire
torched, is once again spring buds.
And ready or not,
the Gospel, the Oracle.