Fumes

What I run on
What you do not know
What fuels me with a passion
Others can only envy
Is knowing just how far beyond
Empty I am running running running

See that snow upon the land
That cloaks the earth in a dead whiteness
My soul knows it as rolling greens
And lush fields that will always provide
If I continue to allow myself to believe and be
In the spirit flowing through my soul my veins

Overdrawn bank accounts and maxed-out credit cards
And empty cupboards and empty gas tanks are no obstacles
When looking with more than the eyes
Speaking with more than the lips
Doing with more than the body
And living with more than the life

What I run on is amused by all things empty
Empty fears promoted by marketers fear mongers
So-called leaders of our land who live in shadows
Created and poured into towers of what-if-
fuming-combustibles-lacking-only-a-spark-explode-
worse-case-scenarios and who pull the strings
Of frantic marionettes thrashing around me

This puppets strings forever snapped
Connected to the power within this moment
Of unstable combustible fumes becoming
Cleansed air flowing in flowing out
With my every meditative breath

Can you hear the butterfly sing
In harmony with the air flowing
Over its translucent wings?

© 2017 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved
Photo: Butterfly (Windfall, PA: 2016)

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