My thoughts have cleared
With pipe in hand
It lays upon
My table, still
Like a horse stands
On the land
On it I ride
From field to hill
It fits in my hand like a knocker
On a secret door kept closed
With it I can ask to enter
A world we’ve all known before
And though there’s smoke I’ve bettered sight
And bettered will to see the light
For grass took root within my mind
And made me like one of its kind
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 9:32 PM UTC
My thoughts have cleared
With pipe in hand
It lays upon
My table, still
Like a horse stands
On the land
On it I ride
From field to hill
It fits in my hand like a knocker
On a secret door kept closed
With it I can ask to enter
A world we’ve all known before
And though there’s smoke I’ve bettered sight
And bettered will to see the light
For grass took root within my mind
And made me like one of its kind
Thanks for reading!
