Infusion

 Ever hear of fastest blooms ?

Its the dirt that blossoms into lily

And one you are still a dirtbag

In the wired extension of one's existence,

Where the dance of leaves strings the chord,

A gentle breeze sweeps you away on feathered currents.

Yet, irony begs for argument,

What could it truly be?

As one sits, time stretches into eternity,

Forecasting shadows of pain and misery,

A chaotic existence murmured in discontent.

Meddling in thin air,

Within the comfort of chaos,

Where does it truly reside?

Some say it's the song of a bird in love with its cage,

Pretending to protest when true protest lacks.

I wonder,

Has the clock frozen too?

Awaiting the arrival of the next tick,

As we hope for spring to heal our shattered souls,

Yet, we continue to hammer away,

Uncertain of when the pot will finally break.

Ever hear of fastest blooms ?

Its the dirt that blossoms into lily

And one you are still a dirtbag

As long as one  keep up with the pace 

can explore ways through

 wired extension of one where 

 the dance of leaves strungs the chord 

 Where breeze  sweep  you away in gentle feathers  

 

What one could argue about irony ,

What could it be? 

 What could happen simply sitting took an eternity forecasting shadows of pain and misery ,  an unhappy living chaos thou murmmered .

 Meddling too much in thin air within the chaotic comfort,  where could  it be? 

 some one said it's a song of a bird come to love it's cage , pretending to protest when it really isn't .

 

  I wonder 

 Clock must have been frozen too ..

waiting for the next tick to arrive , so as we  hoping for spring to show up  soon to heal cracked wounds of pain and rupture ,

untill keep hammering ,

who knows when the pot will break ?

Peace ☮️