they grow from my pores
like seeds from soil in spring,
great and earnest expectations.
both know, allegedly inadvertently so…
they stretch tall like trees,
positively correlating rings with speed;
hence, manifestly juxtaposed to human
decay, most of it, anyway.
the world isn’t made for the blind
who still see, because after all,
you may not need eyes to see.
you see, seeing may be such a different
momentum to me than it ever has been
to a world making rules to confine
and control change. change
could and probably would
grind the glories of love.
so really, the conditionality of love,
lies not in its nature per se,
but rather in our need for it.
it may simply be so, true, for
some, anyway. so is there
a negative correlation between ranges
of freedom and the need for tender loving?
is that the tradeoff that opportunities
cost? and is the only alternative