I ask "who am I"
But there is no "I"
We tend to dig deep
Like the surface cannot satisfy
Is it not as important as the world beneath?
Is the soil not meant to harvest skyscrapers of nature's identity?
Inevitable as death in need of acceptance
An occurrence familiar to the process
Controlled substance balanced and tamed
The mane of the lion does not roar
Travel the course with this vehicle as it writes its own history
All is temporary
The script, imaginary
The pen and the poet take no glory
Behold nature's remedies
The wind makes it's mark