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Give thy thoughts no tongue,
And you're considered to be dumb,
Put smoke signals in the air,
So you don't get beat up by a bear.
Beauty as art,
The narrator goes forth,
Hands on or off,
You should carry the torch.
Are you going somewhere now?
Or taking a long break?
Going up steep stairs,
You'll understand what is fake.
Lying on your side,
It shows no ambition,
It makes good things,
Go through a major transition.
Nay! I say,
So believe,
You me,
Too sad,
To cry,
So go climb,
A tree.

©1999-2018 Steve Bujanow

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