I can’t help but wonder when the birds fly above do they see the mess we’ve made?
A place for nesting hard to find because the humans own it all.
Or the ants as they crawl see the beauty in which we’ve created?
So much more for them to explore.
Is it a perspective or a knowledge in which we are to decide?
My point of view is not his or hers.
Theirs is not mine.
Ours are no one else’s.
Though some can relate and see to it they do.
But everyone is unique, no group is the same not even two.
Now look I’ve gone off the deep end I’m starting to rhyme.
But I’m only curious what a poem is to everyone else.
What is a poem?
Is it words that rhyme and flow in sequence?
Or is it the choppy thoughts and memories that spill out onto the page?
You can walk a mile in someone else’s shoes but that doesn’t mean they
will ever fit.
You can change your view and hush your words and look from the opponent’s side
but that doesn’t mean it will ever be your own mind.
Everyone says we need to fix everything.
That things are bad.
That things are good.
The future is the key.
The past is the knowledge.
The present is this “gift” in which we live in.
But who is right when no one is wrong?
And who is wrong when no one is right?
Everyone survives from what we know.
It’s just opinion friend to foe.
The wings will keep the birds above
so that they shall see misery.
While the ants lack of height will keep them below
aiding them until they reach their destiny.
Because at the end of the day there is no one explanation.
We should use this diversity as our motivation.