Webbed
Trapped in a consciousness freezing constantly,
burning with the sun under the dense cold tree.
Astounding, so grounding, surmounting you go,
Applauding, intending, pretending indeed.
Dancing with the ocean with submerged bare feet,
The very quest of nature, u barely can see.
So are you a seeker, of the very true degree,
Walking atop the twigs, of a rhyming old tree.
Numbers so scattered around although they do agree,
So is the locus of nature, a progressive fabonacchi.
Am I a slave of material world or I so am free,
Deep in search of freedom, so webbed are we.
Copyright © Shahid S. | Year Posted 2018
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