Nature's Feelings: Poetry

Reality is Shaken

It came upon me one evening. 

The retentive silhouette consumed me.

 It touched me on a childlike level, free from the prejudices of society.

 It moved me on a primal plane, where young roots grow in the barren soil. 

The terrain is only somewhat manageable, mere dust becomes a commodity. 

Through eyes of past—ever future seeking—I discover the truth.

 If this be my beacon, where then do I dock? 

For the ocean seems so distant, yet the moisture reminds me it is nigh.

 When must I elevate the musty mast? Is the lick beneath my soles? 

One is like hundreds—thousands in time.

 Moments—raped from existence, Echo in precise stillness. 

Reality is shaken—at least for me—for now.  

I wrote this poem about a month ago.