Flow

A tree does not decide how it grows -

The way the rings curl around

The acorn- growth,

And rise above the city.

Tendrils reaching into azure ceilings

Where the sky is truly the limit.

Where an hourglass beckons

Momentary minuscule michrochosms

Of the effervescent human heart;

The tumultuous beat

Of frantic footsteps

Mirroring the beating wings

Of butterflies

Like the meeting of a first love.

Caught up in the waves

Drawn by the calling of the moon

She whispers to her kingdom

“Flow.”