personification of the mundane by the tired and complicated

just a bunch of words about stuff

the birds chirp and tweet

with the sunlight

as it comes and goes,

dipping and shining between

small oceans of clouds.

it likes to do that, you know.

the non-birds are sleeping

and resting their vocal cords,

waiting for the sun and moon

to trade places, as per

the contract that was signed

before time apperantly existed.

the trees do not sing,

as they will always be trees,

no matter how many limbs

they try to grow

or how many children they

dream of swallowing up.

they like to do that, you know.

and the dirt, it would seem,

is content to just being dirt.

maybe it relishes its own simplicity.

and maybe the rest of the world

is jealous of the dirt and

its easy satisfaction with

the task of merely existing.

so while the birds sing

and the non-birds rest,

everything else on the planet

longs for the mundane.

but the mundane always dances

just out of reach.

it likes to do that, you know.

Reviews

[MusicMartyrs]

"and maybe the rest of the world
is jealous of the dirt and
its easy satisfaction with
the task of merely existing."

-me definitely