zpotter

Planting

where are the roots
holding us to our values
as life's winds whip
and its rains erode
the soil around us;

did we plant our seeds
deep enough,
so we became one
with the Earth,
tethering our well-being
to its care;

too few found the right depth,
we have shallow roots,
whose precarious hold
threatens to give
in the coming storms

Outside

earth covered
in a deep green,

the cool beneath the toes,
a welcome refreshment,

a connection to reality
in a world built
upon the artificial;

the heartbeat of the Earth
travels through the soles of the feet
its energy coursing through
tired bodies
invigorating the soul;

there is more to living -
so much more to the world -

then what is seen 
from inside
these imperfect glass castles

Great Art

we are all incomplete,
unfinished masterpieces,
no matter our years;

there is no perfection here,
instead, the thread of an idea
of what might be
has evolved into this work -
this life -
through the years,
it only reaches its conclusion
in death

where many flaws are forgotten
as we are raised upon a pedestal
we'd never thought to climb,
only to be forgotten
in a short passage of time;

so it goes
with great art