Weeds

{without context,

intentionally}

Visions of myself

in the meadow of my mind,

skinny as a rail,

talking of things unrevealed

to the flowers

(or the weeds -

depending on how you see

them).

Everything is a metaphor

for everything...

and still, I am learning.

Sun rays on my cheek;

warm and

burning.

Spitting and 

spewing out beauty -

rejection

all over my face,

from a disorder

in the face of a

disorderly world.

Only still, I am learning.

I cannot tell the meadow why

it breathes and breeds

no more than I

can know why I breathe,

why I need.

Speaking out

to who and what

I do not know when or where or

why... only how:

only by being.

Be still, I am learning.

Visions of myself

in the meadow of my mind,

hungry as anything,

talking of things unrevealed

to the flowers

(or the weeds -

depending on how you see

them).

Everything is a metaphor

for everything...

and still, I am learning.