Not fixed

The human is not fixed

like a century old decaying

fence that sits in the

landscape and is subject

to the moods of the winds

and the rains and the sun

and the ever changing sky.


No indeed!


The human—me, you,

all—moves and

sways and pushes back,

and dreams big dreams,

and looks for serendipity,

and creates adventures

without an outcome,

without an end.


Not fixed!


Preferring the transience

and imperfections of this

material world to the forms

of some other place that

cannot crack and change.