A lot of things have gone missing

Since the day I’ve learnt to count

Resting into becoming wholesome

A righteous meat in this soup of life


With hope breathing in my smiles

I pray for the longevity of this boy’s body

As he remembers, to never put feet before his mind

To rise and carry his father’s names within his eyes

Rooting dahlias and sunflowers in his thick hair

And living the life of a full moon


A fine feather, yes I am

Resting into becoming wholesome again

A righteous meat in this soup of life, salivating 


And who knew?

That from bruised knees he would climb skylines

Still manifesting the sunshine in his eyes

Still living healthy with his higher self

Reminiscing, yet deep within his heart, he knows

That there is only one poem worthy of living.