Secret Ingredients
Homeless
curled up on cardboard-
nameless faceless commuters
pass without a glance
–
fingerless gloves-
dreaming of a home
not a doorway
Sisyphus
reaching for the sun-
all those years spent climbing up
just to fall back down
–
scorched earth-
blackened stumps
to the horizon
Meditation
cross legged in the grass-
the morning sun dawns over
a new cairn of stone
–
balancing rocks-
my mind clear
for now
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