Mules

Shoulders sore, propped up over an internally burning stomach

Raw eyes anchored to keys,

Each digital page was a blanketed field surrounded by summits.

It’s no crowned jewel, although sometimes peppered by obsidian flakes,

Numbers indicating trailheads with the promise of mountains and lakes.

Following the spine upwards, eyeing the words down

Pages were the ...

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Is sunrise as beautiful if none sees

or birdsong so sweet without human ear?

Is a flower's perfume on an evening breeze

as fragrant if there is no person near?

Was all this created for us  alone

or is there purpose still yet to be seen?

Though Man is mortal, and will soon be gone

Suns shall yet rise daily where we have been

and flowers will appear with heady bouq...

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