Sticks On The Ground
We always see sticks and limbs lying on the forest floor. The end result of a specific moment.
What about that moment...the falling...plummeting out of control through space
Tipping and tumbling as it brushes against those still connected firmly
The falling is simple to most.
It fell through space...we fall
But the limb snapped...as do we
It had to break before the fall..we tumble out of control
That moment when the weight is greater than the limb can stand...minds, hearts, body...screaming inside
It breaks...we snap strained from memories...can't put down the pain
It falls...tumbling to the ground...the world spinning...different perspectives swirl and blur becoming one
There it sits calm and peaceful once more...no energy left within ourselves...lying on the floor
Moved with and by nature...the forces around it...hands on our sleeves, tug-of-war with what we are meant to be
Shaped and ground...it is harder than it sounds
Molded into a new form...fighting to remain what is known...scared of the potential of what is shown
Eventually found...pick me up to see the beauty
This stick...this limb
This man I am...
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