You breathe the heavy mist of the day,
and yes, you must live, 
though at times the weight of the clouds 
presses your eyes hard into your skull;
You trudge over the crumbling roads,
and yes, you must move,
though your boots are scuffed and
the wind punches your breath right out;
You blink in dry dust,
and yes, you must see,
though the clay of the earth 
has caked over your clean vision;
just then,
the sky breathes pink, trudging, misty dust,
and your clay has eyes to see this.

photo via

No comments: