Body remembers….
Bouncing…
bumping… blasting hits.
From outside….
inside…
blowing….
us to bits.
That spinning cycle.
Growing old….
Growing young….
The wind is barreling…
in the fluent current tongue.
Like words flowing from
a free mind meandering….
How,.. we are one of a kind.
Our nature predetermined.
Not destine to rhyme.
Seeking we do not find….
unless the mirror is refined…
Look, Listen Breath…. allow time.
You will eventually…..
realize we are all divine.