Running in the Muck


Dawdling, dwelling, anticipation of getting there from here.

But, maybe, it is a mindset of a peculiar, kind.

A flightless bird sunken to the earth.

Entities much greater than a world of…absurd.

Yearnings from up on high.

And, lonesome low.

Footsteps muddled hysterically running about in the muck.

Never stopping until the earth pulls herself up.

Only to cease upon the sodden mirth bellowing from indentations down below.

murk 1

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s