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.