Na’mastay in bed.

The Indian Theory of Existence proposes
That everything on Earth has a purpose
Each person a mission and each disease an herb.

I have an Indian burn on my soul
From the years we spent diving
The turbulent waters of adolescence

Puberty that stripped us of logical thoughts
Sparrow diving into the wilderness
Rock and roll hearts unburdened.

I strung fairy lights from my bedframe
Catalogued clouds and created
Dreamscapes, imaginary skyscrapers

Arching and yearning, blooming
Traded tea for beer and beer for coffee
Nicotine rushes that gave way

The Indian summer burned my unlearned flesh
Behind closed lids I saw
The red outlines of promise.

Blinked and swore, for
The twenty odd years that seared.
Undying lessons of summer

I held my breath underwater
But had to let go of ego
Scrambling up for breath.

Time healed the Indian burn
And seasons faded the warm brown:
I stand, wandering.

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