In the coast of nowhere
you are seen everywhere,
combing every place of pleasure
and gleaning without measure.
Dining and feasting in lassitude,
you sold your worth and attitude.
What is left is a cup of lies
taken with pretense as pies.
Even the sea knows its place
and doesn’t ask the land for a race.
Even the sky knows its place
and doesn’t drag with the land for space.
The tongue knows its place,
staying within the confines of the teeth…
The ground knows its place,
allowing the movements of feet.
Knowing your place is the order of things
to engage roles properly.
Knowing your place promotes the invention of things
to caress the earth tenderly.
Where is your place?
Is a question of location.
If you are traced,
Is your place your destination?
If lost …
If confused …
When you find your place
rest in perfect peace.