Conjuring Marble into Cloud
Mama's Whispers
With every pace, you will change.
You will punctuate places.
Scenes will spill into spaces,
filling your mind.
Explore the range –
the wilderness beckons,
its open palms the terrain.
Hike and ramble,
rove and amble to where
the grass strokes your ankles.
Don’t stray, scramble, stumble –
vagabonds who drift slip away;
the ground can crumble.
Saunter into sunlit clearings,
uncluttered, unfettered.
You will see better. Feel better.
Enclosures blind and blinker,
binding tight with boundaries,
shrinking and shrivelling scope.
Wind through oaks,
roam plains, climb slopes,
dance in the trill of rain.
Don’t bolt, don’t quit,
escape or split;
run to feel freedom course through your veins.
Brave corners,
take leaps, however steep
it may be.
At times, you will wade,
jaded by the weight of life,
but you will reach the shallows.
With strong strides you will guide,
lead your parade,
steer the crusade.
Settle and sift;
don’t collide.
Your words can shift stone.
Stand alone
on your own two feet
and mark a new trail.
First published by Visual Verse