[untitled]

it seems so strange to me

the way the world is percieved

the way it is evil, merciful, meaningless, soulful

branches of it spread through every strand

of hair and skin

of sun and dreams

of strumming, plucking, trickling sounds

drowned beneath autumn leaves

life is

 

life is

still i cannot find the words

to show life all curled and newborn

or death, the same in swirling streams of color