Running Idle

Small orange onion peels softly away as it unravels Crisp, almost bright, it feels tense but right Slowly creaking toward a realization about the universe unwrapping Unraveling in the dark inner shell A breath How long has this lasted? No one can tell Another breath, this one more alive, more vibrant with color What is that? Oh just the desk that wood is so soft His isn’t, ready and waiting for anything Tense energy flows and stops yet overcomes Needing to move but feeling lost or locked NOW! it’s time we hit the door but stop Let’s start over again