Tender Wings

Tender Wings What is there for me in the infinite bounty of your hidden fortress of change? Am I blind to see the germinating power that grows in the smallest of crevices? Is there unity in the crack of an egg? Perhaps you need to breathe expired flames and eat bitter greens. Perhaps the answer is as simple as a sneeze. Don't sprinkle salt and pepper— that leads to anxious waters, and most frequently, to a friction that casts out the bark of these rolling waters. The bear foresees the clothless rivers jumping from one place to another. Without food in its mouth, it cries at the death of its own losing. A pair of flapping wings calms the beast and rubs off his last hunting streak. A man from afar rolls the dice, clenches his fist, and stabs a knee. The reels announce: "Paint a bird and be its canvas. Cage the instinct and sprout a pair of wings."