The leaves from a dying tree

A man taking a break from life,to breathe free air and not be troubled by responsibilities both of being human and a man.He appreciates the pursuit of solace even if it lasts a second.

in the middle of it all l took my boots off,

with crooked feet bare as an empty king a nation short of a ruler ,

sullied by the thorns and faded traces of a greener field,

l feel the raw and raging belly of mother earth.

digging my toes into her bosom ,

inhaling what seems like a century old of freedom in the air,

shackled and hid away from men's desperate hands.

l detach myself from the very idea that l am a man ,

and embrace malice and my prerogative to the very instinct that ravages the tables of prestige.

look at them a mile into the future and a light year in history,

they burn beliefs and desires that reside in the light as angels,

all in the name of love.

diluting every breathe with fumes of propaganda and false promise,

dropping boulders of injustice onto shoulders of men that already hold uncharted worlds,

 just as heavy as this one.

it feels as if reason and remorse have sailed away into the horizon,

leaving hope,

a lonely gift from the gods in Pandora's box,

shut instead,

 a minute too late,

 in place of the thousands of tears running loose about the cradle of life.

so l finally exhale ,

shaking prosthetic and all ,

riding a river of tears into the woods.

free and all l have is dirt on my feet.

so like all good moments l inhale once more,

as the cycle begins anew,

l am stained with the burden of mankind ,

one of them forever.