Elected Uncertainty Leeching.

Creative Return Breaching.

I am not done with my preaching.

Not till I’m done with this bleaching

persisting the christening

while my backside,

glistening,

projects Joy onto you.

 

Terra-minded,

I am terrified

while spring bears witness to grapevine virtue.

We know not where we wander.

Just meandering.

On this prehensile fabric we tread.

with buckets of water and filth

wares on our backs

sticks in our grip

moving forth we endeavor our visions

manifesting our toes to the grounds

our drive directed

we push forth,

for what-all?

 

What do ye seek?

Why face morning-call?

 

Through body and farce

chrysanthemums and weeds

aligned with sight we condense our dreams-

into tiny packages-

and bless them with seeds.

present them to all

and no one.

memorize them as creeds

to wish fare better on future

and to remind ourselves to breathe.

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