i was not phased by the fall of night
only puzzled why the day lasted longer than my wits
built to enjoy the muck
there is no shame for the plow
how does a climb
exist with no chance for a fall?
where the seeds of information swelter
that are safe from every harm
how do we buy
and sell souls already bankrupt?
pressure can squeeze
but slippery is the mind on grace
knowing too much
holds a fire to every kettle
the world churns
sweat rising to the surface
do we scream
or do we find a way to harbor selfishness?
do i begin again
or is there no hope for wonder
smiled upon by retreat?