March 23, 2014

This poured concrete
Can’t be walked all over
But it’s all over
When we walk on it’s cracked dreams,
Like overgrowth rising
Seamlessly through its cracks
It only cracks under the pressure
Of these pressures between the seams.
But it holds still,
Like windmills bracing
Under the brace that holds
Mills pressed from fleeting winds,
This moored concrete
Is drawn all over
As we draw upon
Wisdom overdrawn more and more,
Pictures of nature
Appear in bright colors,
But nature pictures itself
Appearing by the sketcher,
Who draws those dreams
That the poor concrete dreams
Pouring into the abstract
Abstractly between the seams.
And as we walk all over
These concrete dreams,
Our thoughts fly fleetingly
Against shrill wind,
And the wind
Braces concrete
For the abstract dream
Nature once pinned.

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