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.