listen to them wingmongers circling round squawking about how there be tiny cities on the ground moss barble asphalt laid down betwixt twig-mud megatowers architecture of invisible sound leaves decomposing, ants scurrying spider weaving her web, connecting flowers like power lines buzzing beetles hurrying all the way down the naturebound highway, off-ramps to the nine burrows past the dead squirrel, through the downpour of fungal spores more self-sustainable than any city of yours, screech the wingmongers, and from dirt level i understand their song these tiny cities will be long past when our civilization's long gone
Sometimes bad jokes can make a big smile. Sometimes the tears don't come for a while. Some seek to find. Some strive to give. Some idly hide. Some try to live. As gravity pulls us down to the earth, we're all connected in some way from birth. Some of us find this to be beautiful. We all lose our minds eventually, though. Long while this world's problems are piled, sometime's small things can make a big smile.
My fat furball Lift your head up when I call You used to be so small I can still recall You used to be so light And give me a gentle bite You are my only knight With you, I'll be alright My little knight ~23/3/21