There is always a message waiting around the corner,
Some of us can translate it, some others drown in the symbolism.
There is always a sense of foreigner,
Could be our own mental racism.
The wind blows for us,
Carrying news of yesterday and omens of tomorrow,
But we rather focus in the fuss,
In the stupidity of why we have become our own foe.
The trees stand tall for us,
Waiting for you and I to stay still,
Just so they can share their message with us,
When would we acquire that skill?
The message is waiting,
Copyright © 2017 Manuel Osornio-emotionsoflife2016
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