Migratory Patterns

You do not know, so I suppose
In some aspect every flock of terns that fly
South when my mouth opens to speak
Is a lie;

A murder of crows crowding
Serene ocean skies with cimmerian concrete impressions,
I am buried in what I know

In what you believe to be honesty
Is absolutely otherwise and I am unsure
If an apology is needed or if a confession is necessary
Because you’ve always recognized pink
As being my favorite colour

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1,2,3,4

So come with me sunflowers
Masquerade yourselves in cloaks of humid forgetfulness

A hand a petal a liqueur
Sweet and welcoming find what truth hiding
Amongst locations left unknown:
Along shorelines littered
With millions organic mirrors,
Where are we in these grains of sand?
Slowly digging further into out of habit
Maybe out of hope
Are we trying to feel more
Trying to feel all the minute interpretations
Of our own existences at once?

Leaving nothing to chance
Collapse waves beckon wheat forevers
Come with me sunflowers,
We’ll dream restlessly
Waste days away entranced by sleep fever hazes
Wander stubbornly stuck near bloom
Rotating from season to season
Water to wine reason to reason,
What light shines on a single moment-
Dusty windowpanes revealing a rainbow of colour,
What truth is there when a minor shift in perspective
Reveals so much more,
How can we possibly persist in not knowing truly,
What we are?

Sunflowers bright and safe
I’ll admit that this life is lost upon me,
Your company brings comfort
A warm blanket to cover this cowering frame,
Under shade your body an umbrella
Sipping sweet and welcoming,
What truth
What truth
Falling asunder settling to horizon
Sunshine sediment falling,
Falling away
Our shadows merged together,

I felt at peace