Big Little Things

Deep calleth deep

So can sips make a drunk

And peeps an insatiable.

There is a snare akin to generations

To live for the day and forget tomorrow

To think you're the exception to the rule

But as the screw tightens

The deception can be seen through

Because the spear pierces generations through

Tiny drops of ink with consistency writes volumes

So do humble fountains bulge into rivers

The tiny of your soul conquered is never the goal

It's not about a puff

The goal is black lungs.

Every seed planted must grow

Shoots can be razed with a swish

But baobabs deplete even the thought of uprooting

While it is day work

While the still voice still whispers obey

And don't wait for the beast to grow to tame it

Start now