There are no walls but that which we make.
Dissolving forms and breaking shapes
-without limit, within the boundaries only we define,
until the fine point expands as far as it matters.
Like a drop of water consistently spreading.
If it has enough substance it'll never stop growing.
The constant pulse of living chance, molecular miracle,
in itself it's own decision.
There are no walls but that which we make.
Immortal forms, turning clouds into stone....
....and back again.
No comments:
Post a Comment