Writing

Lo! The horizon's sweet light that shines on the leaves of the trees.

The rustling of the branches softly blowing in the gentle breeze.

The yonder rushing of the rivers across the pains and hills.

Stood above all else

Prepared to plunge into the 

Wood; enter a glade

A recluse and a homebody, little entices me to step outside like I do when water falls from the sky. The smell of fresh grass and wet pavement is magic to the senses. But the experience of being surrounded by it all is another.

because we cannot do this again.

we are tired of giving our lives up 

so you can play at governance. 

we are tired of pretending that war is a toy

you can wind up and watch. 28.5 million lives

The door isn't one I can see,

Yet it grows, shifts, and deforms.

When I started there was only silence,

But everyday its volume grows.

The door started empty,

But over time it crescendoed.

Sometimes driving makes me wonder 

Sitting in a big tin box, travelling faster than a hare

Until I reach traffic and crawl along slower than a tortoise

We spend so, so much time

Moving from one place to another