Sitting on a plate,
like a notion or a nod,
sprouting forth & through,
as our cars drive us to their jobs.
It is odd, I think, pondering about a desk- whilst reading about a raven, who made its fears into a nest.
I attempt to sketch conclusions,
That I keep boxed up & labeled ‘vain’–
I forgot problems were the same as answers, in this container made of rain.
Slowly gaining patience,
Putting negativity on mute,
Solely vines remember past endeavors,
Promising to reveal yourself to you.
Imagine all the dreams mined inside you,
Picture that which you already know, and depict that which you already knew,
Now, Rejoice in the complexity of a thought that is forever willing, to gamble, but only for purpose of plot.
Because you cannot lose at a game you made with your own two hands,
And you cannot expect enthusiasm from a schedule filled with demands-
You may have heard it from me, or maybe through the grapes of time,
Paths, no matter which,
Will lead back to the foundation of all rhyme-
I float like the lady,
Who collects society, tooth by tooth
I ripple out inside the holy fountain, healing words used to age youth
The water is clear, and the weather is fine,
come on in, the temperature is divine.