THAT i exist ; shall i taste pain,
for Earth and stone, singing for air,
mud, wind, and coal?

My backside is torn. A form
        of hungry creatures
sampling my honey heart;
        weeping in tears.

A thought can break rock
priests and politicians
only on paper.  Rivers that
move pebbles in water
leaving paths unknown.

My knees upon forest green
at night by moonlight
the wolves howl beneath
the leaves leaving plumes
o’ breath:  i — like them
consume myself.

:: 06.09.2022 ::

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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