Nature's Trapping
Feet dangle like weeds
underground - over the edge of the bay. I can always imagine life as hopeful. A new reality surely must exist. When eyes penetrate the burn of the sun, squinting is the powerless child. Among memories and present attributes, all remains second to none - still lost, I am still lost. Skies will always remind me of how lost I am, anchored but drifting sideways. Gulls are the Mandalas of the chaotic skies, swimming the air teazing my eyes....