What have I come for?
My feet have hit many a textured ground,
I told you we have been tired by this life,
with it’s schedules and it’s consumption.
Are we both perfected in our acceptance
or are we doomed?
Perhaps a mixture of both, swirled and besotten.
A woman that says no thank you,
shaking of head and letting loose
of expectation is still being stoned.
He said the devil is in your home,
I said your tone is not welcome,
my eyes were shiny and beyond.
I’ve spent my whole life breaking soil so
that the water may seep underneath.
Maybe your eyes are closed
but I can hear the comings and goings of the growth
below my feet.