no flesh, no bone, no brain
nothing but a thing that feels
no story left untold
no identity left unbuilt
no body left to move
no mind left to think
a heart, a sight, a soul
all just a thing that be
all awaiting to perceive
all trembling to attach
all sparks keep on firing
all worlds keep on going
Solitude on the grassy plain field
A simple thing is all we can be
Let the breeze stroke through your heart
Embrace the echoes from the deep blue sea
shitty poem, this may be
however shitty, I do so believe.
