Earth of better ground

resistance to the seasons
all is the same
keeping pace

to look out from self
vision is only collective form

i was a baby once
but don’t remember that either

change is no more the explanation
but the need to think quickly
minds of torment reformat desire

though in and out are incorrect concepts
so you don’t bloom like a flower
stages compact blended divides
compartmentalized understandings
form belief

my entire life has been a good day
similarities tied like a woven rug
they are one thing

we call it “existence”
but it’s really
“my reorganized mistakes”

don’t fret the seasons
don’t morn your own death
countdowns are digital
in red numbers

to only bleed when cut
and i’ll tell you why:
you cannot stop change with indignity
math is subject to proven ends
ticked off on other things
not the seasons
the made up theorem where repetition
always wins

shall we all bow to the sun?
no! …bow to the SKY
and tell me, while you’re standing straight
how many fingers am i holding up
to brush away the tears?

carry morose beginnings just one more time
and i’ll find the next song

promises and more promises?
eh… love is me showing up–
tomorrow never made plans that time couldn’t break

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