Warm summer nights,
Your delicate plastics take flight,
Nature is growing.
The queen helps workers thrive —
Young ones dive,
You hear a buzzing pass by.
Lilac and scarlet fields
Attract your eye,
Pollinate and ensure
These aesthetics do not die.
Sky is full, often past the colorfilled clouds
And is found in the building block of life
Gushing infinite droplets, Roaring sound
Leap off and into the blue cushion, Splice
Reverse head upwards towards emptiness
Away from any social conviction
Traverse the void, Helpful covariance
Place where another can’t hear your diction
Irrelevance, Required sense is sight
Blue, You witness the profound round aura
Objects scrape the horizon, Earth bends light
Life prospers, Land is covered in flora
From naught, To fruition of the blue touch
Hidden underneath it, So much, Too much
A man is a man when?
When he ages out of
the pubescent age?
Or when the fluorescent bulb is lit within the brain?
Or to appreciate the leaves that breathe,
but do not speak?
A man is a man when a plan is set,
But only when the plan is a goal that is met,
A goal that must be complete
And not obsolete to the man’s existence.
A man must not set himself up to lose
Even if the life he lives,
Is like a lit fuse.