I heard Rawlins say I have the recipe I don’t have the ingredients Should one figure out replacements Or wait for seasons to turn Maybe develop patience
In the meantime, Carve a personal space Wind funneled Water channeled Plenteous to get by Pad a little fat to survive Hawing for a turn To be harvested in certainty
Like those days Heard as told When the choir sings And the heavens open up Those days Are too few and far in between If they ever get to you at all
That’s why the rat race is so appealing Providing temporary Comfort, problems, solutions Eventually, A chance to be Full, filled, entertained Fulfilled routine itinerary In the absence of significance
Then buy yourself some freedom The freedom to burn moments To wonder To gaze at the stars Never finding an answer And be fine with it
danDAman 