Fake Problems

Busy Bees

Fake Problems


From the first breath of sunlight,
I could hear songs from the trees.
All around the wilderness, 
melodies directed towards me. 
But when I sang along, 
they all changed their harmonies to hymns of persuasion. 
I was blown away with the leaves, 
and forced to a conclusion about the path ahead.
I analyzed the consequences of the future of my direction.

And I'll go until these bones don't go.

If the sun is kind enough, 
I'll find a nice place to rest. 
Light will pour and rain on down as a song tied to her breath. In her words I could see a thoughtful
line, if these bones don't go on, 
arrest me for a crime that I've perpetrated,
and I'm who it's against. 
Living life in constant motion is the only way I'll be content.

And I'll go until this body does not go.