Like Butta.

Escaping the reality where I was the epitome of perfection
I follow the apple that falls thousands of miles from the tree
of knowledge I chopped down to shelter myself from the rancid beauty
of the faux blue sky
I am reminded of an easy time
Where the world was mine
Revovling around me
I was the sustainer of life
the cultivater of all seeds
homegrown
with love
With love I let the world go
hoping that it would keep on thriving....spinning
around my pointer finger
Too bad I am the official poster child for the classic condition..."butter fingers"