timeless space
abode of the free soul
I can sense you sometimes
from the captivity of my manifestation
on this side of the fence
or is the grass just greener again
beyond the prison walls?
one way of knowing:
I have to feel into it
and stop thinking
to reconnect for a while
unaware of my smile
where the words are writing themselves
being blown around like autumn leaves
onto the pages
and now it’s time to breathe
again and again and again
(why do I have to write this at 4.30 at night or is that already morning?
animals should be sleeping at such an ungodly hour!
instead of writing poems as a witness report of the human dilemma)