Ripples

Ripples

A Poem by Kyle Buser

Many steps have I taken,
None have lead me here,
I leave them in my wake.

Each step shapes the snow,
Frozen remnants of a journey,
No beginning, no end.

A train of thought,
Strong with inertia,
A snapping twig derails.

Stillness spoken by shapeless trees
Mental illness broken by the unconceived 

In my natural environment I don't exist,
Something like a riddle,
Gone on arrival.

Form comes undone as the winds blow,
Scattered to the air, seeds made of dusted snow,


Cracking a seed you'll find no fruit,
Some things you can neither rush nor brute,

Open your mind you'll find your proof,
Leave it behind you'll find the truth.

© 2016 Kyle Buser


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Added on December 2, 2014
Last Updated on June 21, 2016