I’ve been trudging through existence doing my best.
And these vultures keep hovering over me,
my movement reminds them I’m not dead yet.
The least they can do is stop hiding behind a mask of illusion.
Panning wide, while still circling, never directly attacking, just waiting.
Buzzards who feed on the dead, opportunists posing as authorities.
This delusion is coming down quickly
because I asked for it with feeling.
A mustard seed, a pretty picture,
an irony manifesting…
Dark to light, illuminating.
Thank you! XOXO