Toting the Stone
Your soul is made from black earth.
That's why you're wrestling with loneliness.
Because they're afraid of earth's truths.
They don't want to soil their perfect hands.
They think everything must be pristine.
Perfectly stated, nothing jaded or misplaced.
They exist for the roses and champagne.
Instantaneous, perfumed gratification.
They're afraid of earth and its heaviness.
Earth flourishes with a rock-steady pace.
Making slow love like a glacier grinding stone.
Prefers a turquoise pool of silent thought
Earth has always preferred to be alone.
Your soul is like black earth, strong.
Be proud that you're not like them...
You tote the weight of absolute truth.
Never souls that curl back upon themselves.
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