Ones story never ends
changes always happen
the body submits to life.

Realization is a crooked path
down a road to promise.
A view of the whats up ahead
blinded by corners.

A pendulum swings
with no partiality.
No clock
no time.
Hands unwind
stopping in the middle.
no virtue to hold in seconds.

Where is peace of mind?
The I self calls out to be recognized.
Wondering if the train still circles the station.
Station master calling out destinations.

Fall colors commence, chemical reaction to the senses.
Bare braches idolized as picturesque
as walked by those unseen.
Ghosts segregated by death
Natural causes, effect all of it.

If all things are relative
to what extent do I ponder the unknown?
Do I relenquish thoughts to purge my naked soul.
warm blankets to cover the heart.

a compass with no directional magnet
a leg stands without a foot to comfort
the hands hold high the thought of standing
standing upside down to see the heavens on earth.

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