Wool travels through a tree
In a pod which explodes to throw it out
Lucky hands gather to refine
Piece upon a piece into many elegant things
Who is a bird to blame hands
When it feeds on fruits
Stays on trees and
Paint its surrounding with its rear vomiting?
A hole can be whole
But in a whole lies a hole
A being was born by a being from a being by a being with no end
Every being artificialised in production
The world is a take upon a take upon a take
Blood being a mixture upon a mixture upon a mixture
All authentic lost to time
Oh voices of fake originals!
Horses of self imposed superiors!
Look above and hope to fly
But look down too for the earth awaits
To churn all into food for roots
Roots which would feed your artificials and their artificials
None is a stone which fears no fire, water and air
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 9, 2017.