it’s odd.
i knew right away

she drifts
upon the world.
a flower
on the back of the wind
a smile full of soft sunrises,

eyes that capture the morning fog
on blades of grass.

she
is a world i have never seen through these eyes,
flowers that never lose their colors, just grow brighter ones,
clouds that don’t hide the sun,
no, clouds that become golden and
the stars that never rage in the darkness,
no, they create landscapes in the night sky.

her voice dances with the world around her
and instantly i knew,
i was tired of standing still.

what was it
that the leaves were trying to
whisper to me as they fell from
their branches?
tiny cities changing color
and making room for new ones to sprout.
have i not changed my colors yet?
will my buildings crumble?
did winter come without me knowing
and have i
always been this uncertain of the things
around me?
the lights have all gone out along the path
i put myself on and
was i supposed to know it would be this dark?
the sun was warming my face
and i thought i saw her alongside me
but the path was full of leaves
and my colors didn’t change
and the ground became harder
and i think the leaves are falling again
but it was just spring and everything was green
and i did not dress for this wind
And my legs are tired
and my voice is still straining
and
and why
couldn’t the lights have stayed on
just a little ******* longer?

Apples will fall from trees and land with a thud against the earth,
but she may not like the constant beat against her chest.
Can we understand
death when we can’t
even listen to the cadence of its changing melody?
Furthermore, the fire’s always burning,
granted we aren’t sure who started it.
He insists that we should listen to his judgement without
idolizing his actions, however many would start
jumping if he had asked them to take their lives.
Killing….and
lively as we are, the world is filled with anger and the apples keep falling,
many of them smashing the grass beneath them over.. And over.
Never ending.
Our chest is tired! We
plead, yet the fire has burned even brighter and
quietly we listen to the lonely sound of it’s crackle.
Recently, I have come to understand (the earth) in her
struggle living with the life that she encompasses.
Tirelessly she listens never able to guide us or help us
understand how to help her… how to help ourselves.
Vocally, we aren’t there for each other when we should be.
Why is it that we continue to fall against the earth? Although, une
xpectedly the earth continues to catch us. “Thank
you,” I say to her, “I know we continue to fall against you. I recognize your
zeal, and hope maybe one day we will figure it out ourselves.”