Change

Wheels of paradigm should not be so inclined

To maintain the grinding of the soul's seeds

Flouring petals denied their bloom

Wheels of paradigm may never be inclined down slopes

Less explored, dust and hopes

Ignore petals allowed their glory

Slumber cyclic dreams

Self fulfilled fear

Comfort of the known caress 

Lulled, gentle turning and returning

    The broken mind knows its mind

    And doesn't mind its paradigm

    A broken mind seeks to find

    Another mind beyond its kind

Fingers of change push in to the damp soil of the heart

Lifting and turning, feeling for smothered bulbs

That long for light to shine radiant petals

Breaking through broken wheels that were inclined

To explore dust and hope

The cycle of growth breaks dreams

Of comforting caress

Exposing to sunlight, creating duress

To change, to roll wheels

Kick heals, new ideals

Dry bulb's sleeping petals

Burst colour, life

Undreamed, unformed

Never too late