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The uncharitable heart
Calling to the road side. A beast is there. He follows, but we don't speak his tounge. Not a word we share, only calls of confusions and fear. The air is rich and smoke is steady upon the crossing that divides our ways. Shall we submit, allow a friendly pass? No we will cast stares and hateful words like weapons toward our roadside beast. I wonder if he's tired. Maybe he prefers to walk. Comforts he may despise, but who am I to change his desire or question his need. He's a beast on the road, nothing more. One we often fear and loathe.
This is so true, and we are
This is so true, and we are all culpab in some way to some degree
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver