Independence from oligarchy's
sweet scent
rushes past
assumption
of normality's
dust fertilizing.

sweet scents
of summers last blooms
light up gazes
as rainclouds
gather upon
breaking shores

rushing past
the blooms
blur into memories
of progress
hard won
and hard fought

assuming
we'd need a picture
to remember journey's
adventure
camera points
proliferate
pontification.
Nothing adorns the wall.

Normality
is blooms on a rosebush
in good weather
and redeemed beautifully
surprisingly
predictable
though aren't always
to be found
growing

But dust fertilizing
gathers upon
blurred memories
of progress
and adventure
belying
predictability
in which? we grow