Where Are We Caught in Gravity’s Fine Grip

Where are we caught in gravity’s fine grip
Where the rose shakes in fits
from the wind rising in the east

Where is the turmoil lost forever
in what well can that deceit be dropped
so that no manner of malice can re-ignite its fruition

What life that pulls in colors from sources unknown
that peels back the sedentary to reveal what’s endless
that breathes so fluently through the lives of all

Where is there greater glory than inhabiting this home
this planet where we’ve found ourselves listening
piling on layers and layers of visions

Telling endless stories to the night –
all of us escaped from wrath and boredom
grasping our future like the farthest rung

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