weaving a web,
accompanied by strings & strands,
angels echo their command.
amidst the chaos of where we all intersect.
nature ties in, weaving together a tapestry of connectivity.
the creaky wood planks absorb our debris.
we are not alone!
droplets of melody translate through my inner drum
and into the lens of inner vision.
a past of material belongings
rendered by close-knit marketing ploys.
angelic in guise, not all who sing
know how to harmonize.
strange, the unsteadying pull i direct towards
which only throws me off my course.
the blacksmith... you captured her attention long ago;
i cannot compete, without pointed effort.
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