Lake District, UK
Perhaps, sometimes, in thirst to fit
we may pretend as little puddles;
they, when not looking, crawling
to the new place – pedestrians
to timeless grass and weeds,
observed by motley walls,
prosperous lands & mountains…
I see your silhouette in black-white
letters/words/spaces of blogged pace;
ah, how many laced holes!
you wear those layers of ‘all right’
between asserted accelerated voyages…
heart chambers filled with sighs of
hidden echoing emotions, wounds,
restrained thoughts, and feelings
moved inward to find the center of
gravity, establish rank and order...
who'll dare to break through once
despite the locked windows and doors,
remind to the strayed world, steeped in
the bloody monetary monster,
a true story of the wondrous souls…
Perhaps, sometimes, when thirst is real
we bow to the liberating rain…
Note: Inspired by work of Kumiharu Shimizu, I've continued the theme 'thirst' from last haiku post...
Thanks for reading!