IT was there within the crack
of a sun-baked sidewalk
a beaten trampled path upon

that I placed my brittle soul
next to the weeds that grew
within a gritty soiled ground

Passerby, your foot so close
to the fractured light —
I see your sole but lost my own

Is the reason why I choose
that the thumb of rule is to be
that I watch the walkers leaving me?


About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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