It seems like only a few days ago that we were crouched upon my father's forehead trying to iron out the wrinkles born from his day upon day Now we sit explaining how we were and all of us are born into a world where nothing can be changed anymore left only with a fleeting illusion of control the wrinkles on the landforms and the fleeting seasons can explain what is going on. We are talking, meeting, discussing, and allocating funds and sanctions budgets and assets taking reports Persecuting and hating on people assigning blame where we think it's due finding what exactly is wrong as if we know As if we know anything from graphs and sheets and networks. Data and models. Did they fear - the people from Harappa, what was the end of the world to them? And the ice agers? What were they born into? Maybe we are the only ones who have lost touch with calamity. Only everyday expression matters. Only that matters which lifts the spirit gives spa
Mostly I brush life off my shoulder when it falls gently from a tree, or when it grows from my shirt like lint. Mostly i sigh it away like a laugh from an unfounded joke or a waft of extra air in speech. Except sometimes.