Forbid I feel; yes, forbid I change.
What a burden to drink from foreign skies!
So free I am from chains of fondness,
Or dandelions frolicking on a fallen branch.
Yet here the deep quiets in, noticing a lull in time,
Who waits for me? he asks, Who can spare a dime?
I drop one in out of sworn pity; leave on my married way
To the altar of forgiveness, yet the leaves shudder in trembles,
Fodder in thorns, begging me to follow a broken but bare path.
Nevertheless, the sun rises, the storm seems far behind the mirror. Field
The tallness of pale grass; crawl up my skin like ants escaping growing weeds.
But Who cares, the seeds will find my eyes soon. Balancing acts always carry that risk.
Which extreme existence will I find? Already, the moon asks me which light I will reflect back to him.
I don't know, will I ever - the dandelions fly past my gaze. Are they taunting or inviting me, to have it all?