In the morning;
It’s calm and quiet
everything’s covered in white,
colour of the gloria.
A hoop’s no longer tethered by its strings
It hangs lifeless, broken and disconnected.
In the afternoon;
The sun and me — I wait,
I try to speak to
shoveling men shoveling
forever dirt, where neglected plants
die in their frequency.
A dimension with mysterious energies.
stars swim like fish
endless in a cloudless sky,
a train derails between the dandelions and grass fields.
Where are the principles of peace?
Sureallism surrounds my heart,
woven in filament silk.
Shore, sand, and water creased by waves.
A kingdom with souls that vibrate.