in every high i hungered, a low in disguise
conman clearest, quite the simpleton am i?

though the blind cannot see,
with their ears, not their eyes–
the learn more of the Earth
than a stranger like i

do i know–?
how hear someone speak
through the songs of their cries

be a spoke–?
for the souls free-falling
from winds to demise

low hope–
and often it seems in my mind
that i dream of a life
more seasoned with time
and growth

(is it real? what grows in my heart?)

time need-be spent like preparing a meal
sweet sweat that proclaims of unwavering zeal
love came from the dust to the grains of the field

what a crop–
churned by the pain that i feel
every trial revealed
forms a love that’ll shield
every drop

of anger that aims to fulfill
all endangering thrills
till no longer i give you my all