The Theory of Goats

So now that the winter is gone,
And Rose’s rose is missing,
While the galloping horse
Kissed me goodbye on my nose,
I discovered an intricate theory,
Full of erudition and a sensational
Exploration into the minds of goats,
It is about a whimsical captivation
Of our intellectual reality that has
Clearly separated us from our dreams,
Slightly, a bit, somewhat like a juxtaposition,
A theory full of oxymoronic hypotheses,
Take this for example: spirituality is
A specific term to deflect an incoming
Dream towards an infinite horizon,
Which is really really cruel,
But in a kind way, very graceful,
And when you mix it with numerous
Ologies of science you beget either
An organised chaos or a spontaneous order
Where goats are at the podium.

Nostalgia Along the Promenade

The clock paused on a moment
And solidified an old footstep,
On the grass we strolled,
Alongside the dancing birds,
During a beautiful summer,
Smiling at our own souls,
The beauty of nature within,
Inside the empty seashells,
Outside the closed lighthouse,
Towards a limitless horizon,
A companion’s walk,
Even on a different season,
Winter storms gushing,
A touch of a cold sneeze,
Still, our blessed smiles glowing,
And we kept walking,
Greeting all natural creatures,
A goal was set on course,
With a companion’s hug,
And that was the old footprint,
Hoping for another seasonal warmth.