Cotton passages in open fields
Where God ran his hand down
Not longing for a way to go
But twisted to some kind of normalcy
That our brains could actually comprehend.
Perception of what a tree thinks
Or how an animal cries
With no mention of what dirt feels
When you walk all over it daily.
A figure stands in the distance
Too far away to focus
Yet close enough that you discern
It may not be safe to pass.
If only we could justify actions
Build your bridge across the river
Because your comfort is more important
Than anything you are inconveniencing.
Feel me pulling at heartstrings
Not of you
Because you don’t build the roads
You just require them.