It started out as one, all the same
in time some told to go, change
falling to be replaced, worn down
still together in being, different.
A roadblock forms
around the corner
still habit wavers
before the turn
for sudden change
Sometimes the point where it turns.
Is sought for, away from, yourself.
Whilst afraid to turn, where you stand.
What is the mark of liberation? No longer being ashamed in front of oneself.
My nature goes out
and in focus at random
changing with the wind.