You know you wanted... MORE POETRY :-)

Elements of the Procession

The mind has no way of measuring the concept,
Not possible to see below, or perceive the height of the sky.
In the safe place everyone dwells, it's always there, always alive,
And life continues on, all’s well, without any signs.

Time is not linear as we have been piloted to believe,
But spiraling like a wheel, at times moving up high in sweet air,
And sometimes choking on dust turning to mud with sweat,
It's destination that gives us the eternal motion we all share.

Perhaps it's a tempest or a balmy solar breeze,
(Something that pushes our days to pass by),
Listen – we will hear it every moment --
Space where time stands still exists if we try.