Our skin reflects what we've been through.
Not what was written.
Rivers are propelled by the way the wind feels.
Not the variety of fish.
Everything that's happened,
Becomes shrunken to a snip of air.
And the wanderers,
Find a way, to surface.
Our race, reflects from our final "selves"
Initiating transparent routes,
Of evil deeds & searched blessings.
The oceans are propelled by the rain,
And it's predictive nature.
wrapped around the fiery pits of molten energy.
What we do,
Give's & Take's
From this core.
Its engraved.