I remember the spoken word of the old poet;
family, wife, kids.
yet his voice
from his youth days,
by what is uncertain.
by all that touches more than just my physical senses.
by paths that lead to different states of mind.
always in love
with the potential that is human kind.
I love the way time takes everything away:
me, you, them..
all that is
all that will come
all that will want to stay.
just an element,
that’s all we are.
just another element.
aren’t we just that?
My needs are egotistical. masked as empathic expression.
I take what they need to give,
in return, I give what needs to be given.
I was left out, broken car.
(broken by me)
broken by my need to feel more than just metallic skin.
and it’s always the same,
it always ends with repetitive acts
of needs, cravings, creeds,
personal intentions masked as good deeds.
Wisdom comes and sits by my side,
a sculpture of the finest material made by Greeks of old.
brown olive in color, graceful,
the center of attention wherever it goes,
behind the clay, hiding–