People need religion,
a blind faith,
in order to feel whole.
Like jigsaw pieces,
we strive to rationalize and complete the picture painted enigma.
Grasping for truth only to return empty handed.
My faith in you,
in us,
a tree.
Roots grounded stubborn against torrent winds,
and tangled between grains of the sands of time
(turn the hourglass upside down
and watch it slowly trickle)
only to grow leaves,
swaying to the rhythm of the breeze,
to stencil streaks of chocolate cherry blossoms
across a vanilla sky.
No comments:
Post a Comment