Trees floating in the wind
feather flying by my side
cool grass on my feet
glad I have this place to be
no matter the way people say things seem
I feel fine
wind is blowing on my face
my mind's eye looks out into space
wonder what it's like to trace
the path of that feather, drifting someplace
see the looks on a passer-by's face
he hates the wind, and this place
thinks he's isolated in a tiny space
but I'm not
my mind is soaring through the clouds
connecting with the birds
crawling with the worms
singing without words
my mind's eye is in the sky
hid tends to inward lie
sadness
thieving, lying, drugs, awkward replying
not really trying, constantly dying
raping, then escaping, never repaying
disconnection
he thinks he's all alone
the only one that hears his wrong
is himself, not so
he hates the birds, stomps the worms
curses his life, then cries, dies
but still persists, to kill his life
adds constant struggles to his endless strife
he thinks people hate him
so he hates them
and so it is
i wish he saw people as himself
i wish he thought the birds understood his wishes
what if he thought that people could hear his thoughts
would he change?
would he watch the words he chose to choose
would he begin to not want to lose
his precious chances, to make a friend
endless regrets may find an end
all if he started to notice the simplicity
of having faith that others will see him the way he wants to be seen
The grass glistens green
tell skies begin to gleam
clouds glisten, birds listen
connection
appreciation of the wind
cool sensation is the gods' friend
after all, we're all within
a living organism
Don't die before you live.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Phaestian, in the year 346 AF.