Pages turn like seasons.
Sages burn like reefers… at times.
Balancing we keep up yet sometimes fall behind.
Behind of what we chase…
Refined is not our taste
We must cleanse our palates and paint.
Paint new habits over follies of old.
Ever horse before carriage…
We must carry our own codes.
Sometimes create them as we go…
Fleet of foot when we should stand still…
Standing still when by all accounts
we should have fallen where the weaker go.
It was all good just a week ago.
So although the sleeper hold is administered
by politicians and ministers,
some seemingly sleep with one eye open.
I’m cool until touched.
Then the fuel just erupts.
I then transcend… we… us… them.
Distinctions and dissension eat dust.
I see trends come and go.
I see friends come and go.
I count none as enemy, despite betrayal or enmity.
I will admit that some tempted me.
But I did not taste or take the bait to such extremes.
I did fluctuate mentally… but balance bore me through.
For honesty I stand thankful.
For now I know what I knew.
I hold myself accountable.
I resort to being responsible.
I call myself on my own B.S..
Basic Simplicity is intricacy implicitly present.
B.S. is a gift to the farmer.
Man your posts all ye fathers.
We need you.
I needed you.
I had other needs that superseded you.
They were met.
The ache of absence remains…
as I grow into realization
that we always have a choice.
I have chosen change.
Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion