At times In bouts
I have this and in tides
irrepressible urge my wretched heart connives
says
the farmer to the mendicant to
his fields to his bowl to
just get up and leave make a seed of my soul
leave everything behind and seek send my guts down as roots
out my destiny. to breathe into the soil and grow us food
in experiences and spew as the seasons come and go
out songs that'll leave you in the garden that we sow
all breath and water
Wednesday, 17 May 2023
Cyclic Existence
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