Sun Explosion Planet from Pixabay

Wailing Explosion

Greg Prince
2 min readJan 31, 2019


Intensity expressed in claiming and owning.

The Smell of impermanence clouded with beauty
cleanses my senses.
Brings me back to the ground.
Fills my lungs with dirt.
One and the same with earth.
In circles round and round.

I am lost.

In a bubble floating across indecision.
Overcome in the mystery of producing.

I am found.

I can’t catch up.
I can’t catch up.

Why should I want to?
Why should I care?

Song of my core, submit to the sky.
Everything in an effusion of effort.

The heat toiling in subterfuge clashing and striking
against my intent.
Boiling blood pouring ripped and slipping around calluses decorating my palms.
Hands aching, strong and tired envision choking any pretend tyrant demanding an undeserved obligation.

I can’t keep up.
I can’t keep up.

Keep your uninvited supplication and selling.

Keep your entitled, privileged backscratching and calling for favors.

I give as I see fit.

My benevolence will not be determined by the seeking of false approval.

Search thyself.

Turning to face fear:
I will stand still and prevail.

Turning into and staring down doubt:
I will breathe quietly and triumph.

Swallowing each gasp:
I will shine and overcome.

Sundering mal-intent shadows:
I will flow a garden stream of harmony
in my thoughts and fate:
The small flourishing success of a contented spirit.

Come and grow with me.
Rise eternal carbon and form again
making and creating new and
wondrous multitudes of worlds,
universes, and realities.

All caught up.
Concentric circles twined in
expanding survival.

All caught up.



Greg Prince

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.