Fingerpainting

Perhaps a drop of coloured oils

Perhaps a nodding head

A mind like a prairie wind

Perhaps.

 

Perhaps it can’t be avoided

As in an awakening from sleep

Perhaps your digits need staining

Perhaps.

 

It’s nice outside, you know

Perhaps you forgot the night’s stars

Perhaps a splatter and a smudge

Perhaps.

 

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Plop

Stand by the water

Frog on a log

Stone thrown in

A satisfying ‘plop!’

Frog hops in

Plop plop

Scatter stones

The plot thickens

Plop plop plop

Maybe too many plops

Frog swims up

Pokes head out

Back on log

The plops stop

I stop too

 

 

String Theory

Existence is a vibration

Karma, the snake

A simple oscillation

The unwinding undulation

 

All things are strings they say

This indivisible fundament

All of everything just a song

Grab a verse and sing along

 

Let your wave synchronize

In all this empty space

Nothing is really empty

In the spaces between the space

 

So slither and wriggle

Writhe and jiggle

Connect with the source

It all makes one big chord