Bumping along with riding wind and ruffled ambitions

There, down below, hillsides covered in fire

And there, up high, a falling star

All around the particles of life.

A bird flying backwards

A snake climbing the vine

Crickets demanding

Children smug and crying

Where does the trail end or begin if hobbled with the mantel of humanity

Circle path beaten into a canyon passed from life to life

Is this where the line starts?

End?

It matters not as the sound of laughing

ever the wind and cares

blowing, blowing, blowing,

this is my Life.