They sit,
cross legged
beneath the sacred tree,
mind still as a pond on a windless day,
reflecting
the absurdity of existence.
Others dine on the absurd,
raising glasses of cheap wine,
toasting glorious chaos.
Beneath the surface,
we all are searching
for a touch of truth.
Somewhere we all dance
in psychedelic frenzy, our laughter
echoing through the cosmos.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge day 47/365.
Desert Dweller 