and so I come here and nothing escapes me not in the way that I want it to.
I feel like an empty hole out off the side of the road somewhere passed the rails
that keep you straight and down below the terrain that no one ever visits anymore.
Sometimes when it rains the water that drips fills me up and washes the dirt edges
down to the middle I turn mushy and soft you could dig in me easily if you wanted for
in this moment I am just mud.
I wish I could be born right now start over leave the passive journey that was,
behind me and just start now left still with all that I gained from time here.
There are so many electric currents that run through this air these days miles and miles
worth of story that is told, put on an endless infinite loop.
All things that are good rush and spin through me as if I am translucent
as if I am a spirit, malleable. As if that moment in Pocahontas when she sings the song
"The colors of the Wind" And the leaves rush around her in a circle they swirl about her
body. Good things they swirl about me now and all the bad it stiffens with the strike of good.
I stand as just a mere human hope is my only way to stay alive and I thrust my eyes on it
as the mouths and hearts of others speak clearly and more honest than I have ever heard uttered
or understood before.
I look out across this mountaintop and I breathe just breathe for the first time in a long time.
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