Robert’s yellow wood

Inhaling deep, the voltage

of present, expanding lungs,

engaging blood with consciousness.

Aware of this exact moment,

this existing second in time.

Feet grounded, mind still, revelling

in light of life,

now.

Drifting away, the force

of what was, descends the dog

of black. Tethered hearts,

unsure, in Robert's yellow wood.

Lost in times that don't exist,

diluted by detail,

dragging just being,

to death.

Gazing up, the detachment

of the Universe echoes peace.

A freedom within a lesson

of graceful insignificance,

resting, eternally, effortlessly

besotted, by the acceptance

of energy

evolving.