The Grey Grass
I now hug the stormy tree
The bough branch and buds
I now bite the height
Green is turning red and orange
I now hug the bone and blood
I am a tree
Ready to annihilate
I am tornado
My cognitive bowl is hollow
I am now the limbic lobe
Why did I do that
I live with lack of rice and bread
Tired morning and numb evening
How shall I plant the tree
No soil no water no sun
I have no right to love
No right to look at the jasmine
Looking like the night
The flight of fireflies
Not for me
I am the height
Of thought and thought
And thought again
_______________________________
20 November 2018
Prompt: "At times I think, at times I am" ~Paul Valery
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