Psychic Disconnection

Flowing across the walkways of cities, announcers of successful marriage ceremonies move treetop to rooftop like plastic bags caught within a desolate gust across immeasurable lengths of humanity.

Pigeons accept food from the hands of rich and poor without prejudges.     

The rain’s all encompassing movement teaches adaptation that even rocks understand given enough time.

A single petal rests silently on the cheek of the sky that reflects upwards to my questing gaze, a breath of life throws ripples across a pool filled with moonlight.

 The crow takes flight while voicing regrets all too keenly mirroring my own.

 Clouds and seasons of growth race by unaware of the world’s maze.

 Shiftless masses trudge through lies that have been formed out of the flimsiest of half truths.

 Lies they must be for how else can you explain the phenomenon of thinking that even though you have never meet them they “know” everything about you.

 If that was to be the true standard of society then I would be able to write the afterthoughts of the next person to read this.