I cannot drink too deep
of my own words
they are vessels of conveyance
bearing resemblance with anothers
otherwise I fret in the wind
wings and spirits
milestones of journey
everyone is born in need
unashamed wretchedness
the pen is the sucked thumb of a child
creases in the palm of an aged hand
yet no substitutes
we must conceed
to morning fronds
vivid perspiration
bathed in the sun.
Communication is with a universal perspective to avoid a mental illusion
of selfish conception.
