BEING

Underground, its hard to see
What kind of thing one could be
All the stretching and tearing
With the sun, sometimes, glaring
...its light
.........on tender eyes

In the dark, matter becomes weighted
When WAY can NOT be anticipated
That's when vibrations cluster
Around reason, to filibuster
...for voice
.........to push BEING into choice

Edges and corners are never safe
Only experienced by the stupid and the brave
Best to reside in a circular clump
Where time and space gather to dump
...lack
........skirted in lattice black

BEING is most difficult when one is seeing
Who, what, and where others are agreeing
Being neither here nor there
But in the middle night....WHERE....light cares
...about movement
...........and the BEING's improvement

....????


Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-12-2019


Note: I'm always amazed when I ask a question, and without expectation, one answers in a way, that identifies the maturation of the soul. It never gets old, and always gives me the direction I need in prayers for that soul.