Seeds take flight with the softest blow,
on dandelion clocks you know.
How long can that be?
And who’s in charge of time. Tell me?
Twin spirits drift and sometimes fly,
but cannot separate or die.
Distance is all in the mind,
a word for space I think you’ll find.
Alienation is a choice,
but takes an angry tone of voice.
Despite the walls, the gates, the locks,
think of the seeds around that clock.
They drift, they fly, they find some ground,
and safely grow until they’re found.