Rust color days wave at me with a frankincense wind.
Releasing me of all my human sin.
Splinters of tranquility…not bright…not dark or dim.
Holding me in a wild grasp like pools of water in a broken cup.
Time is boundless…
Travel is padded with the ever-changing moss.
All is hostage on rust color days.
There is no camouflaging thought, at any cost.
On rust color days.