Beat and bruised,

tanned under the sun
weathered as the season alter
starting a process backwards
going back to the earth once again
ashes and dust, blown to the zephyr.
What was then a mold
now a part of nothingness
it’s not something new and deifying
but always there in a view
there it stands,

Provoking, demanding

a change in me
asking me to take a detour
but I won’t budge or be moved
stoned and stiff like a mountain.
Please make a mend
a quarter of life spent
Snap! You feel you're born again
you didn’t realize it then
and it’s too early to begin
back to the circle; clipped and chained
you’ll give yourself another day
to finally comprehend
your body is no longer a friend.