Kite in the tree
I’m all mixed up with
no common place to reside:
a boredom, and more so—a crestfallen posture.
Sentiments flare among
the unwillingness of others
to consider breath and compassion.
Once I veered to the opposite corner,
here I considered the alternatives while
my neighbors annihilated there souls
once again.
This was not a odious scene:
as it revealed a willingness to
drown the beauty with banality
of lost things.
However the present duration,
we remain material witnesses
to life and its variations of
maxims.
