Gaea’s Routine

By Danny Swentkofske

I sit with my back to the empty cold.
I sit with my face to the dancing flame.
I sit,
mind wandering,
Weary of the blackness of the night
and praying on the brightness of the lights.

I lay in the field.
I lay in the sun.
I lay in the grass and the bugs,
full belly, mind free.

I sit with my back to assured death.
I sit with my face to serene life.
I sit,
mind escaping,
Praying on the safety of my tent,
and the warmth of the flame.

I lay in the open.
I lay in the dark.
I lay in the chiggers and tics,
empty belly, mind gone.

All are
created equal.
All are made free,
and tread as they please.
Mother wears souls;
the strong survive.

Appreciate
the dawn
as gold fingers
grab darkness.
Fear dusk,
as Apollo’s feet
flee the scene.

Darkness erupts.
None dare tread
where Hestia hasn’t blessed.
continuing Her cycle.

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