poetry by j matthew waters

ethereal like the fog

and so we stretch our limbs
turn our thoughts from solids to liquids
as if we are something more
than mere human

if you run fast enough
there’s a good chance taking flight
without wings or cape
nothing more than inner strength

oh how far we’ve come
from ocean to moor to rooftop
synthesizing plant with mineral
further projecting time

august two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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