It was the stark tension of ropes,
Screaming distress with thin threads–
Unbound, twisted madly, perilously.
As the gasps shorten–
The incessant gravity,
Holds as it only knows how.
What then if not free?
Do trees tell stories of their youth for the rocks to hear?
Does the pounding sea beg forgiveness of the shore?
I long to exude the song within–
Without taking something away.
Whispering one word at a time,
Where no expanse can prevail–
And no tide can soften into meaningless grains.
It is in the hiss of leaves,
The breaking of day,
That I know.