Seeing seething, seeping wounds
Bandaged more than their cocoons.
Breathtaking, worldly, in delight
Something broken, fangs in spite.
Carrying burdens with their back
Cracking barrels, stumbling track.
Ambitions high amidst the air
Spinning yarns, caressing care.
Eyes want truth in light and thought
Hands wrought iron, sow and sought.
Be with the mystery, comforting space
Beyond the matter – it’s not a race.
Amie Zor 