In the swells
Lashing uneven terrain
Peace is found
For perfection
Is not present
In the Presence
Of hardship
Cracks splinter
When exhaustion
Supplants the
Need to be
A producer
Yet the need
Is in the
Hands of
Lowly and
Forgotten consumers
Who have nothing
To gain
But a quiet afternoon
Where commentary
Isn’t desired
It’s mission
Is simply being
One with self
And the thoughts
Thought
To be long buried
How wrong
Human
What isn’t met
Returns
To sender