Randow

A Poem

You watch the earth grow blue or purple
or some color of the cooling night,
sipping up the reds from the horizon,
gazing downward at your own external world.
Everyone looks about, some man pushing his
electric wheel chair backward and forward,
stares at the distance.

You forget that you are blessed from time to time.
and that is ok. It is ok to occasionally forget that the
world is filled with circles of experience.
Concentric, infinite, circles of living and have lived’s.

You have to hold onto what you have I suppose.