THERE are soft fields which
no mind has painted
but hearts (which are really
always not human) run through
the tall grass as brushed nudes
and life is short but tall canvases
which where-by and bye our (h(e))ARTS
give some meaning.
And there is a sky so high
as deep as Soul erasing ignorance
from all minds inflamed by the minor
length of our traveled roads.
Is it not always short; the hello, goodbye,
love, hate and
a burning fire called Life!
:: 07-25-2015 ::