Perhaps it's still too early
To truly equate mind with nature
And feature future human beings
As among our fellow creatures
Who need comfort and food
Security and relationships
Magic is balanced with meaning
And measure is often a false construct
That is spun like strands of thread
Often against our own better judgement
Balancing on the edges of our beds
And sometimes on our own two shoulders
Why can’t we unfold our bodies
And spread our wings like birds
Across the skies of our abstractions
Spirit is always still meaningful
Lingering in breaths and butterflies
We surprise the sunset with our memories
And make shy attempts at smiling