The snake
slithering is not a defect but a wayof moving differently
feeling the grainy rub of mother earth's motion
of tenderness, expressing
the pleasure of the body
in this world.
I remember not old distress, nor all the miseries
to be,
today itself is already late enough. What I hold in my head
has real power and I never
start my day with broken pieces
of yesterday. Beautiful is only
the life beating within, not the feelings and thoughts
that just ebb and flow.
Any place can be called home-
be it a flower, a song or anything else. It does not have to be
set in a stone house, so, for that I am earth and water made stuff,
in miniature,
I can carry myself anywhere
and still feel at home. This is the beauty of being
unknown, by disappearing myself
into the green sea
that never asks who I am and where I have been. it just let me
be as I creep into the great Unknown.
Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Written on 2025-12-01 at 00:33
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