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Sep 2017
Do you think the night sky knows it's dark,
That it's invisible purely because of the sun,
The lacking of the light.
Do you think it knows that it's part of a unfathomable universe,
Do the stars know how important they are?
Does a tree understand they're breathing for us?
Have you ever stood by a tree and looked up,
Held its bark, marvelled at its roots and reasoned with your body,
That this connection is imperative to your survival,
As are the stars?
If you had more capacity to use your unconscious brain would you understand shame? Or Love?
Would you understand, the feeling of shame is so powerful it is a deathly toll, a weight, a pit and a maze.
It fills you up, every crevice,
Every knot, in every pumping noise,
Every heartbeat.
Is it love that survives, in all these things?
In the dark, in the oxygen, in the bad places,
Was it true to feel all these feelings, and not understand them?
Are we motivated now by adulation, or adoration,
When did we become such beings of instant gratification, from simply stars and budding trees?
When did survival become a face we needed to utter words of safety, or strong hands to hold,
Do you think we know how dark we are?
Do you think we are stars, or the wind,  or love?
Are we unadulterated in our obsession with fear?
Are we hedonistic in our shame?
How we were simple beings in a place without light; at times, we thrive in the dark
How we have convinced ourselves we are bones to be broken, minds to be shattered and hearts to be disillusioned beyond disillusionment.

Do you think we know we are alive, enough?
Do you think the trees know when the wind stops blowing?
Do you think the sky knows it's dark?
Rachael Stainthorpe
Written by
Rachael Stainthorpe  Huddersfield
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