structures of our existence
rankle like fire spewed by a volcano
figurative patterns form by natures way
elements of destruction thought beautiful
mesmerize in formed flight...pathways labeled
“fixed” doesn’t matter where...up close
and personal through barriers of sight
textual wisdom reminders washed away by the
flow of existence slowly and surely making its way
stars pinpointed reflect glowing embers
sonic blasts never heard by anyone except trees
one tree falling, one hand clapping never more to
be heard across eternities of the ages.
Copyright © Cynthia Cross | Year Posted 2019
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