what to write from a brain to a scroll,
whatever words float up from your soul.

in practice of keeping it
soft, safe, and sweet,
you must not consider
the pounding of feet.

they flee from the side of the world
they grew on,
beneath the large tree that
spreads out until dawn.

the moon
  and the stars
    and the sun
      and the clouds,
the weight of the tears
pull you straight to the ground.