kites and towels

Absolve myself from absolutism;
Envision stinging skin, soft as a baby's bum
And fresh as a daisy at dawn,
Simply because I choose it to be.

Consequently and constantly
I'm in a state of Morning -
Those first few moments of the day
Being in essence, unaffectedness.

I skip along this yellow brick road
Each day, allowing Mythical creatures
To breach my unbelieving
Eyes.

And a towel is a Thing of Great Mystery
When I inhabit this space,
Post-wind chill on 'that there 'ill'
Where experimental theatre took place.

And everyday
Arising with fluffy, white fibrous material
Brings home to my self-starved persona
That we deserve to see the view like this again.

A view, not just for us
But filled with kites above
(Multi-coloured ones) which I prefer to believe
Would be there anyway.