Hanging from this tree branch with one arm.
At a height high enough that would hurt a fair bit if I let go.
I'm struck by the weight of my own body.
I'm so tangible... so breakable...
small and weak,
yet tall and strong. I can be anything.
If I weren't here, this tree still would be. Magnificent as nature itself. Yet it's glad I came by this afternoon, this I know.
I stare at the bark, and it seems to pry past my eyes and into my soul, saying "yes, this is real."
I am real.
And I'm so pleased to be so.