Words Flow through my soul
In bursts like the snap and
Snag of a Frog's tongue gripping
The last flight of the weakest fly.
Sometimes it comes too fast for me to piece,
But always upon complete
They seem just right for me.
Like a stone leaning against a tree, the
Stump will begin to grow and bend around it like it be fate that The Stone and Tree would meet.
But it would have never come
To be if it wasn't for that day when the man decided
To sit and rest under it's shade.
All around me I see life not always
In people but always
In the coincidences that surround them.
We coy in our heads and in double meaning words that
We can Control fate; True,
But we first need to understand that it is knowing
The fall of the next stone that let
Us harvest our predictions.
And in that we still commonly fall prey to
Social judgment and self manifestations.
Balance; the simplest, yet hardest and
Most sought after state of mind
Seems to be teetering atop our stretch of goals.
Somehow always coming in to play
At the precise moment
When you least expect it.
And that is what it is,
Self clearing in a moment of frustration
Can lead to it's exact opposite yet equally the same
Blissfully balanced.
In my darkest hour I have found balance
And in that pain is what harvest
The growth of balance which has played into my fate.
I might just be irate,
But I think I can hear stones tumbling down.