Creative Poetry Spoken Word

I’ll Call Him Weeds

Oh, to see the world through his eyes.
Standing barefoot at the edge
of the sea
Embracing the wildness
within the nothingness.
Oh, to retrace his steps
through this life and the dozens past.
Staring into the vastness
of this existence
and understanding our place within it all.
His eyes. His mind. Call to me.
I’ve never seen them before,
yet I recognized them
in this place immediately.
Our space in time
so perfectly aligned
on the banks of the Trinity River.
I, his smokey stranger.
Him, the seeds that
rooted in my heart
on this day
and grow rampant and wild
as the wilderness in front of us.
I don’t remember his name
so I’ll just call him Weeds.

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