The lonliness of no cars littering the pathway

The melancholy in the sound of birds

The green is good And clean is god

But isn’t the prospect of ascetic spirit sad?

In a land w/o light

In a land of drudged might

Why wrong seems so right

And end so near in sight

Palms get jittery

And mind as cluttered as the room

From Surefoot to Backfoot, one step at a time

While he, she and they slowly mime

Saw bliss upclose,

It chilled my spine


Probably I’m too wary

To reciprocate.

Probably their vision of life is too awry?

Deep in the water, these questions I bury!


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