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If one’s eyes
should stray
to another blossom
on the way
may it be in delight
and of a dancing glance

A moment in awe
of Nature’s beauty
an appreciation
for the spectrum
of conducted wilderness

If it were to be
a change
in pathways
—a transfer of heart
into another seat
of love’s wanderlust—
eyes illuminated
replete with glimpses
and bits of desires
then allow such
fleeting eyes
to grow wings
of young butterflies
in the strong winds
of curiosity
wings weak
to illusion’s natural lure
and let go of the security
that any eyes
were ever yours.

I Am


You are not a house
You are not clothes
You are not a car
You are not a word
You are not a pigment
You are not your parents
You are not your organs
You are not an action
Well then, just what are you?

Maybe you are a cloud
that accumulates
and is born
out of thin air.
You move from one space
to another,
letting the sun
beam you down dry.
Maybe you find yourself
without knowing

You have
all the elements
to sustain
your existence
But still,
you seem to be
another cloud
passing by.
You float,
you change
with the currents
of wind and rain
but your
will always
stay the same.
You are a cloud
that will fade
like all clouds do.
Until then,
enjoy being a cloud
in all of their
morphing stages
and shapes,
for they are all beautiful
to look at
even just for
one day.