The Peach Tree

Columns of smoke cloaking
Cluttered thoughts and unfed shadows,

The crumbled calls of entropy,

The breath faint mystery of survival,
Blackened hills and broken wells,

Rusting cogs and pyramids,
Cathedral spires and totem poles

Conducting loose and lost mandalas
As they dance to hope’s melodies.

Revelations spin on pin heads,

Winter’s artificial mountains
And frozen river plains
Mirror soft transforming skies,

A loose decision is plucked from nowhere,
And all is one again somehow,

No static in the daylight,

No rainclouds or feedback
Or dark-dyed idiocy – just peace;

And the cracks find us here,
Wide eyed in a shed,

Laughing in each other’s arms,
Staring at a simple old photo

Of a peach tree,
Zoetic.

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