Sunday, February 9, 2020
Drawing through space with my body.
Flexibility for the muscles so lively.
Each twisting motion a signal to calm me.
Out to space for a calling I move so.
Inner feels—but it’s like yoga I don’t go.
It’s great to be loose.
My energy of an inner muse.
Who knew the two beings.
Each side of my ribs now releasing.
Tension from the bullshit we dwell.
Often wringing out the pains of hell.
Aiding an almighty beast who talks insane.
But how the writings brew a thought train so well.
And Sunday’s here we get to run without rain.
Protect what we see out of the profane.
Spiritually grow and rewards through findings.
Proving the body draws an ultimate kind of lottery.
To the ground I looked down.
Up from it I picked.
Within I get it.