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Sure the fatigue would come...
Infiltrating the sanctity of our skin,
gripping our muscles
and chafes us within.
Right down to the bone.

No doubt the fear of future days
would eat at us raw.
It would gnaw at our minds...
Debilitating thoughts that would *******
no one else but our own.

Of course the seeds we've planted,
mightn't see past the layer of soil
in which they're embedded.
Seeds hidden in the ground for future reaping...
They mightn't flourish to meet the harvest
and greet the hand which would
welcome them full grown.

Most likely the days before us
only show of dark clouds...
That constantly scare us.

But today...
Has time and space for us to exist.
Today has a crisp sweetness wafting through the air.
Firm, unwavering ground beneath our feet.
So let's claim today because today is ours to keep.

Today we share the returns...
Of the sweat and the tears that in the past
we've sown.
Palms overhead sway,
nudged by the occasional breeze.
The chatter crescendoes
before dying down...
To make way for the call of prayer.

It called to its followers.
So calm...
So sincere...

People hunched over their tables.
Savouring delights that came on plates.
Wafting aromas,
mingle like the swirls on candy.
Drenching our senses...
As we immerse ourselves further
in such good company.

I looked at the eyes that surrounded me...
Only soft, kind gazes greeted back.

There are no shadows here...
No silhouettes...
Only faces I know
generous with their gift of glow.

A rising warmth
emanates from the pits within.

In this here circle,
no matter how motley,
I feel alive.
I'm drinking up to a stupor...
This lovely band of five.
onus of science, or dream, to all explain;
the inexplicable remains dismissed:
being here or there: exactly arranged
and no one yearns to know of nothingness
between the emptiness of meanings each
with labeled names, boxes tightly-packed--
towers darkly lined, well beyond the reach
of but a few, lost, scattered minds...
xe shouted through hir lungs a greener hue
that we could live beyond the concrete grey
die in love despite our evil ignorance,
our rainbow cutouts crying for the sun
  --posthumous teleologies begun
  in kinder dreamers, earthly songs enhanced.
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