Melted into the ground
I am already known by,
From the cracks in the masks
I am constantly shown by.
All thoughts;
concealed in the corpse of the trees.
Cloaked by the realms of normality, running through the soil
of which I've grown by.
But here I lay,
thinking of a Mid-Alaskan day.
trapped by the fears of the ignorance
adjoined by the contour belief,
that you and I; shall never be.
This soil is never leaving,
from the undersides of my feet.
the idea,
that the mud on my shoes
may not wear paper thin.
Track in layers,
of the secrets within.
Here I lay
Hopefully not to stay
But having let myself in the know,
of the place I've made
(all on my own.)