The river bank is erroding, but the trees stay rooted-- above is the sky, and beyond is where the tundra lies.
A life so different, and yet vaguely familiar. It is Sunday, and you can find me in the desert. My mind cannot identify the differences in the bodies of water from my Alaskan memories, or the one that is before me. I am only able to recognize that there is always movement.
The current so calm, just like the beating of my heart, the gliding of the clouds. If you could find my hand, would there be any love left to give?
I cannot hide in my skin, only submerge into my thoughts.
"I beg your pardon Miss, you are not just carbon, you have got a purpose."
One day I'll release this pen, and free all the fear. I hope to never be found.
This distance, by no means will hold me captive. It is time for me to embrace it, For I worry it is not far enough.