travel.

What water have we settled for,
The sweeter still or bitter sour?
The yardstick of our average tastes–
That not so less, yet, not much more.

In solemn trees and birds that sing
Is nature’s bride and wedding ring.
But betrayed by our brilliant minds,
We’ve destituted everything.

Sandwiched between rocks and stones,
Monstrosities we’ve built and owned.
And come each week we run and hide
From memories of broken homes.

Inspired thoughts have long survived
Our listless foot and restless eye
To make our peace we travel far,
And search and search until we die.