What a dangerous keepsake the restless spirit is
writhing through the night
searching day by day
for more meatier experiences
for a place to finally stay
waltzing amidst the jungles
tightroping through the throngs
of people and of places
of instances and wrongs
that constant continuous search for something
anything there
that spirit that falls off your curio shelf
that breaks in the thin air
oh what a dangerous keepsake that restless spirit is
its breaking its ribs
and jumping off cliffs
to find out where it lives
what a comforting thought to inside know
that somewhere there is a home
a solitary chunk of wilderness
that spirit calls its own
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
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