As I pick the tomatoes off the vine. I swirl them in my hand. I feel its texture. It’s firmness. I examine its bright hue. I look for the sights around me. I listen for the bees. I smell for the flowers. I look for the hose to keep them watered. I seek the things that keep me fed. The grass grounds me to the earth. In your domain what am I?
I’m the apple of your eye
The gelato to the cone
Baseball to the American psyche
The truth is never pleasant
But it frees you
From your own prison
The enslavement
You created
Trying to be
The embodiment
Of perfection
That is an illusion
Because its not
An attainable reality
Love yourself and one another
from R's rue https://ift.tt/s7qXt4G
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