Flash in the pan

See-saw

Ethno me sore

-Rise

Or do we fall within? Be-littled by consuming sensation

Can we feast daily?

Gorge the soul!

Flippant to flutter?

Even the oak

Breathes from the breeze.

Wafting stalwart

His toes hardened, roots planted for life

to Ascend.

Growing beyond.

Dying to live.

Is he conscious of the sapling? Or does he find it just pure sappy-

Does the internal eye negate the world?

let the sparks ignite,

even when we are pyre-wood.