Stage of Flowers

Conventional wisdom
will not work here,
we must strive
to go beyond
stereotypes.

The way that my hand
fits into your glove,
the way that my heart
fits into our love,
the way that our all
fits all the above,
this is beyond wisdom.

Our mornings
just never get started
but rather eek onwards
day after day,
each night
in successional season,
each melding
as egg follows lay.

One in the same
no difference,
seeing ourselves
as we are;
this is the way
of all reason,
one belt,
one business,
one star.

The eyes
of the world
are unfocused,
and their ears
are both deaf
to our song;
this is the sense
of all reason:
all knowing,
all loving,
no wrong.

runningturtle87