The lost Tribe;

What happened to us?

Planting seeds, admiring the force of weeds,

Please, come forth again.

We are no longer a tribe of thoughtless falling leaves

The beauty cannot be replicated,

one of a free mind,

acting kind.

To all beings.

Those who pass through unseen, those that have the heaviest of minds that lean.

It’s not obscene, it’s what’s being seen.

We have the power to change our reality,

from what is but not,

to what is, full stop.

Connected more than ever,

yet we lack the freedom, leaving us not better than an animal that is tethered.

Disconnected from the earth we walk, text no talk.

You can take the chalk and draw your own path.

One without nails to come,

but don’t stop when you feel the lure of the comfortability after getting the taste for the numb.

This is the time to be a thoughtless falling leaves.

Wherever you land, you land with grace,

no fixed pace or chase.

Just embrace the airspace.

Where you are now, be the tree, rooted and still free from resistance,

a force that can knock you to your knees is not one to be afraid of.

Dance with her,

dance with yourself,

dance with others.

There is no difference.

We cannot see ourselves though, as one,

we are just not two,

we are infinite.

That’s what liberates our tribe,

we can thrive without the need to survive.

Ride, the wave.

Stride free from pride.

Abide to yourself.

Life is a fairway, its fair in its ways.

All-ways.

And you have the key to the display.

We are the lost tribe.