Subconscious Burrow

Where is free-flowing life?

How do I elegantly evolve

out of struggle and strife?

Where is true love?

Are prayers released

from thought to above?

What is making a living?

What is purpose without giving?

I receive blessing from beyond

le spirite de la monde.

Here, the sun is setting.

All the crickets chirp with birds.

July sent times of betting,

as August drums passionate words.

Tweeting one flying high,

zephyrous leaves & bugs buzzing by.

Emersonian is Nature.

Thoreau saw how thorough.

Language is human nomenclature

and human thought — the burrow.

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