Sunday, August 2, 2009

I wake to the beauty of nothingness inside
like a blank slate I am ready to filled
outside water falls and leaves whisper
the smell of green and dirt and wood

I think of nothing and observe
the light touch on my skin
the heaviness of my seat
there is a mop of hair on my head
and a train whistle in the distance

a pressure internally signals I must
perform my humanely obligations
and I think - for the first time this morning -
how good it will feel

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