A farmer plants his seeds knowing in time green stalks will rise. Bury your worries in the secret garden Herbs burst from soil, strong and unbaptized In time fall wind blows away all blooms Your children thrive in houses and streetsides. Each a thread woven in a street beggars’ looms. Our blood is mixed with your’s flowing and entwined as an ancient fermented wine these streams have flown born in eons before our own. Through thousands of lines Children, birds, & trees keep finding a different way to shine.
Stranger in a strange land. The Man Who Fell to Earth. Will I ever find a place that is home- which can contain these multitudes? “Have you forgotten? You are multitudes. You can never be contained in words or bodies, alone.”