A.B.I.W.T

symmetric by author

In my deepest darkest days

Crying

I’ve asked for release

I’ve wondered about those entering the maze

Emaciated

I’ve asked for release

The cruelty, the injustice, the chase

Waste

I’ve asked for release

Some have survived, some have deceased

Alive

I’ve asked for release

The world will never grasp the depth of human ways

Deceived

I’ve asked for release

I’ve asked for release

Nevermore

The end

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forest of trees by author

Lost in the woods of Upstate New York

The gray sky is bold; the rocks are slick

There was a stream at a trail’s fork

I begged to hold on but my grip did slip

I fell into the stream which took me in stride

The water and fancy ferns seemed to ask, “Why all the struggle?”

With one foot grounded in the ancient mud, I did confide

I will get back up; my mind no longer in that muddle

The tall trees looking up yonder

Beckoning me to keep going on this hike; to keep getting lost in this wonder

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A.B.I.W.T

A.B.I.W.T

Chit chatting. Sharing thoughts and ideas that vex and perplex.