Friendless you toiled with palette and brush,
Forlorn amidst wheat fields with only mad rush
Of flying crows to mark the day,
Crossed paths unite yet yield no safe way,
Fulfillment pursued beneath sorrowful skies
Painting with troubled soul that once cries
Out for love yet finds only torment,
Thus your life spent.
Tramping through fields of cypress and corn
With stars and suns swirled in a morn,
Hatband-held candles yield flickering light
Sustaining your soul one last starry night,
Rooks swirled in violet a soul hungers still,
Standing alone – the wheat field revealed.
Walt Trizna
https://walttriznastories.wordpress.com/
poetreecreations.wordpress.com 
You have at least one friend.
Stop eating the seeds of the field that other crows are eating
search the world for another kind of meeting
Because it wears the crow down, heavy, unable to fly
so the crow sighs, wondering why
Begin like a falcon to fly high in the sky
stop eating the consumerist lie
Empty your belly of shit
then meditate deeply just for a bit
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Thanks, I think.
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