A new kind of art resides in our minds,
germinating from the future’s seeds.
It has yet to be planted, but

it grows nonetheless like a
vine creeping up the walls of
academia.

(lightning waters
cells in our
brains as

thoughts

burst forth
from soil
we live beneath)

We can’t remove it,
rooted in collegiate
bricks. A symbiotic self,

it is one with that which birthed it,
as natural as chlorophylled trees—
life, death, and all that exists in between.