Poem: Morphize

 

Morphize

 

wind never sighs,

rain never weeps,

 

crickets don’t sing,

doves aren’t angels.
 

stones never pray,

nor any tree wise,

learned with lichen.

 

cloud are not donnybrooks

of jumbled menagerie.

 

we witness

the sculpt of our own fantasticating minds:

 

chisels of bliss, hope,

and kindness,

 

awls of pain, cruelty,

and fear.

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