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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #1306438
Following one little thinking pattern that may not even exist.
Bow tied eyes

With heads up
The orbs are gazed upon
Eyes focus above.

In an attempt to know more of themselves the people must be shown
What it is that glows above and whose work it is
But the heads begin to drop and notice dear earth mumbling.

Grass shakes in evening winds
Boulders tumble along unknown paths obeying timeless pattern
Water trickles; trick a licking.

Heads crease and need scratching
In wonder of what is seen
No words have yet been assembled, no spectacle to be known.

The earth continues talking
Babbling, crying, laughing
Eyes dart away.

Eyes travel between our earth and others
Trying to see between where what is earthly ends and the rest begins
Here the sight is spleen;

Guts and blood
Healthy, dying, lost
Another environment speaking humbly to the mind.

When the eyes give way
Sight enters the mind
So minds may enter the sight.

Exploring what runs throughout it
Feeding off of what is found
The mind consumes continually.

The mind’s use of sight lowers with the sun
Sleepers do not think past dusk
And the world waits for another day.

Past a night, exploration begins anew
Worlds to name
Names to be surrounded by words.

Looking to the sky
And wondering as they do
Looking for an answer the subject is consumed.

Minds becomes matter
Stories become days
The earth speaks a new tongue each time.

In confusion, facts are few
Proving them carries us through

Some facts are believed
Some minds are moved
The forces sway the subjects like waves to rooted seaweed.

Looking up through the water
We see one changing life
When we are lucky the sun shines just right.

In that energy our eyes can rest and see
The warmth is that of a baby’s curled palm
The moment rushes through as another pushes in.

These seconds are those
that make sense of the rest
of the ways we pass our waiting time.

At odd moments they may come
Loved ones bring them by
The eyes rest.

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