Behind the eyes,
                where multitudes abide,
a mind decides to obey strange instructions:

                thoughts
bloom like fruit & fall, one
by one;
                    some
return to the earth & become new life
while others, for reasons unknown,
decay slowly
& grow into nothing but waste;

warped
        their shape & sound contort
as they fall
onto a dark forest floor &
        grow thorns:

will beauty persist
when feelings no longer exist?

If I say you have misunderstood me
will you say you know what I mean?

& why write a poem

                    no one will read?

*Credo – Robinson Jeffers