I’ve climbed a mountain
and planted a seed—
one that may grow, someday,
to reach the floating sea.
And go higher, higher,
up above—
where nothing is
as we know it to be.
The sky—a lie.
The kite,
struck down by lightning.
The bird—flightless.
And the moon is dark.
And I may build an ark
to save my sanity
from the floods of reality,
and place the ark
upon a mountaintop,
just like I did the seed—
and let the waves
wash all my troubles away.
Perhaps next time,
I may just build the ark,
and forget about the seed.