Tiller of the Ground

Rootless and recoiled from the grip of the soil

I stand and watch the keeper of sheep pass by

Eyes fixed on the highest hills

Little time for acknowledgements and salutations

A false horizon

Leading his flock up to a higher education

Indented trails with no intentions to follow

I remain surfaced and content

Learning my lessons from what has fallen around me

Making meanings of abandoned meanderings

Unearthing answers amongst the weeds

Gravelling gospels between the dirt

Kneeling on my hands and knees

There are no falls to break

I can choose where my dreams & sorrows are sowed

Upon where the heavy hollow grounds chew and swallow

Bury a heart in a hole

Bathed in showers and awoken by sun light

Distant from the cast of my shadow

These thoughts will blossom and bloom

into empty prophecies

Mindful of the shepherd who wanders the open valleys

I am the tiller of the ground amongst recycled ambitions

I am Cain

I am unable

'...with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy & subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm & melancholy'