Roots and the hills submerge
To the warm progress of an incomplete sun
Connected to the core
Through a single string of hope
Without contempt
Without judgment

Meanwhile on the placid crust
Worlds collide over thin cut slices of wood
Disjointed by differences
Through waves of social alibis
Without empathy
Without humanity

Birds leave their nest to fly west
Seeking shelter for eggs to be hatched
Fearing not their demise
Through stormy days and starry nights
Without fear
Without doubt

Meat puppets run around in circles
Constructing machines for destruction
Basking in the fake glory of their egos
As a chicken flying off a hill
Without consequence
Without remorse

Summer brings the bears out again
Streams to be raided, children to be fed
Rejoicing the calm twist of nature
As a peacock in its first rain
Without stress
Without paranoia

Raging winter freezes sands of time
Halting the cycle of following traditions
Burying a generation of lies
Like a grand expedition
Without salvation
Without Nirvana

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