The wind sings
Through the trees,
As dawn rips the night
The stars saying goodbye,
Again, for the world is a circle.

The plants greet the morning light,
As we paint the earth
With our words.
Trying to replicate,
The tearing of the night sky,
But fail, as it is too great
To be written down on disposable things.
Petty shapes on pages could never
Show the things the sky does.

We are fragile creatures,
Holding on to something that
Cannot be held in
Small hands, reaching, pleading.
Our memories, minuscule in
Comparison to the mother of

As we walk the earth,
Destroying what we were born
In the life that was blown into us,
Our souls.
We build up while crashing down
The hope and survival
Living in cores of beating hearts.

And we stare at blank pages of
Days, months, years
So much, so much,
Too much to hold as we reach.
Trying to remember
All the sun rises,
And the wind’s songs,
And the sky is ripping apart,
And our breath is stolen away.

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