We flow through motions each day that pain us 

And try to fix them with all sorts of oceans and potions. 

They sway.

They sway back and forth in our bellies,

Looking for excuses to put our minds at bay.

The trees feel for you, every drop of a clear cloud and each leaf shimmying to Earth’s surface. 

Tears remain stained in bark for their family who would make scrapbooks, and pencils, and more axe handles to continue their slaughter.

Momma doe’s and father foxes huddle in their dens to protect their young from the monsters in orange, with their own sons and daughters. 

These sons and daughters have battles too. With guns they shoot, the thoughts in their head, putting bread on their table. 

What for? 

To drink the potions, to behead the trees, to dress in orange, to hunt down momma doe and father fox, to put bread on the table. 

We live mindlessly. 

We are aware of the consequences.

We are aware of this endless circle.

Yet we do nothing.

Yet I do nothing.