Is that you on your way?

Rough and sturdy

The bark meets the dusty soil

at an almost invisible seam

The drumming beat

of a slow crawling rush

Means a rite of time

Endless like the crackling

wrinkles of the wise one

Unashamed pride

in its powerfully carved lines

Wild and unabashed

by December it is striked

Small green hands

They float, they fly

Cold sun shines through white sheets

Translucent blades

down the stream jet blow against my side

Is that you on your way?

Patterns and their texture

Hearing the soft soothing sound of laughter I wonder where my guts will take me next. I remember times past and get ready to throw myself into the deep end. I am throwing myself into the deep end as I run my fingers through life's intricate patterns and realise how I shall never live these patterns again unless I do so now.

Their texture is rough yet appealing. Sharp at times, though forgiving. And when the texture is sweet, its rewarding kisses know no boundaries.