Gushing fields drown all worries,
With only the driftwood of tree branches to consume me
To run on waters so vivid, scintillate,
Surrounded, cherished by the depts
Of fleas and an eerie fortress of trees
They might capture whatever feeling of freedom
Remain in my feet
Lying on a poem of grass and glass shards,
My back melded to the earth,
And my gaze absorbed in ethereal blue
Let the living things feel my skin, my hair, my touch,
The leftovers of my existence
Might I let myself race
With the flight and flocks of beings
Losing, tripping in a whirlwind of sunlight,
Bright beam of joy and fear of hills
Why this adrenaline in me?
Why this rush of floods,
Of pain in my hips and smile,
But never a tear of numbness?
I can only feel
As I always will
Dec 12, 2020
Dec 12, 2020 at 6:03 PM UTC
Gushing fields drown all worries,
With only the driftwood of tree branches to consume me
To run on waters so vivid, scintillate,
Surrounded, cherished by the depts
Of fleas and an eerie fortress of trees
They might capture whatever feeling of freedom
Remain in my feet
Lying on a poem of grass and glass shards,
My back melded to the earth,
And my gaze absorbed in ethereal blue
Let the living things feel my skin, my hair, my touch,
The leftovers of my existence
Might I let myself race
With the flight and flocks of beings
Losing, tripping in a whirlwind of sunlight,
Bright beam of joy and fear of hills
Why this adrenaline in me?
Why this rush of floods,
Of pain in my hips and smile,
But never a tear of numbness?
I can only feel
As I always will
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