Fit of force

I like a tall confidence;
a fit of force
at nature's best.
The emboldened gait
of yesterday's fright,
casting shadows as it glides.

Own each step
as you control
the respective space.
If pound of pavement
be a precious rhythm,
soon you'll see us
close beside.

Mid-May musing

The irony of human suffering along the sliding scale:
you are forced ever outward by centrifugal forces.
The clarity and peace of the origin
an irreducibly tiny part of your once effervescent nature.

Breath now, the musty air of time everlasting.
Taste the staleness of the fragile identity.
And in awareness of yourselves, may you find the
peace denied as you press ever outward.