Is it the misappropriation of time that we gather the herbs for rituals sake?
Just to make tea for dreamscape.
A mention of unrealistic expectations
has us absorbing the mirror’s reflection
and wonder aghastly
what it is that daunts us?
Where most don’t care
but who we are to them
and what they can recieve from us.
The dimples, sags, lines and creveses that falter our skin
as we age in time judging
all we see and grasp as our hands make work meaningless
in the grand scheme of things.
The numbers on the scale tell us false hoods.
What does it all really mean?
I feel better at this weight
than I did being skinny in my prime.
I can run the distance and dance a mile
but my body leaves clues resembling my age.
Swimming in agelessness
I call clothes hiding the forms of supplication.
Open up to the stars that alighn us.
The moon that moves us
and the sun that I gravitate towards.
I worship them all in their glory.
Still as I age the grace that carried me this far
helps me rage.
I still have yet to figure it all out.
Falling into routines,
I keep my head open for change.
New habits to health transitions of Death.
trying to tease time
with ascention on my mind