Silverfish

A Seamless Transition

Is this Propaganda?

I am haunted by horribly malicious behaviors–suddenly taken by regret and confusion without a sound.

In the East I hear her song again.

It's deduced like the endless cycle of the seasons–the comfortable ritual of night and day.

The slightest inclusion of life within the lifeless, a pinecone buried in the soft dirt, tucked away.

Awaiting growth patiently.

Nature is very patient, I've noticed. It waits because its intentions are known. Its plan is definite, unwavering yet bendable.

We all wish to share this comprehensible notion, yet fail to adopt it easily.

I hope for this weight to fall off of my chest so that I may begin her plan–I am patient too but will fold eventually.