weak and fragile as diamond stones
linear as a parabola
abstract as one plus one
constantly amazed by similar things:
a hit of a lightning bolt
movement of hand
birth and death of leaves…
growth of humanity
a scream leaving lungs
explosions of flowers
inside this bubble we call living, being.
(Hi, you are amazing.
Hi, you are not only what people see.
Hi, you make this existence bearable.
Hi, I love your leaves.)
and it’s always the same,
it always ends with repetitive acts
of needs, cravings, creeds,
personal intentions masked as good deeds.
(I love you because you are you,
when in truth,
I love you because I am me.)