Walls of Cone


Of conical homes
We call life

We slide upon
By gentle breeze of reason
Towards each other

We were let in
Are holds, we must let go
As we were made
To gravitate, into each other

We may use, to tear separate
Happy with hops, feet away
Soon slip by its own weight, back

To separate
Not in our will

These walls
Wide at birth
Narrow, in the end
Were made, to let go
By wheels, of a gravity
called love

image: theglitterednest.typepad.com


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