Being

Underground, its hard to see What kind of thing one could be All the stretching and tearing With the sun, sometimes, glaring ...its light .........on tender eyes In the dark, matter becomes weighted When WAY can NOT be anticipated That's when vibrations cluster Around reason, to filibuster ...for voice .........to push BEING into choice Edges and corners are never safe Only experienced by the stupid and the brave Best to reside in a circular clump Where time and space gather to dump ...lack ........skirted in lattice black BEING is most difficult when one is seeing Who, what, and where others are agreeing Being neither here nor there But in the middle night....WHERE....light cares ...about movement ...........and the BEING's improvement ....???? Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-12-2019 Note: I'm always amazed when I ask a question, and without expectation, one answers in a way, that identifies the maturation of the soul. It never gets old, and always gives me the direction I need in prayers for that soul.