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Image for the poem Into the trees

Into the trees

Burnished in a heartbeat,
Capillaries rage,
An open fire, flushed upon skin.
Their flames,
A mirage of stretching sinewe,
Of igniting muscles,
Consuming oxygen as it's drawn.
Throwing the body on.
In the only way, that makes sense,
Compelled to wrench oneself,
Across the apparent void of emptiness.
That the energy imparted as the river parts,
Takes trust in the ground of some far off land,
And it's sound;
Speaks of the same song,
As the essence of that essential spirit,
Taking flight within the shattered light,
Of falling rain.
Trusting instinct,
To chart a path across this uncharted domain,
Where I seem lost,
Yet choose,
To remain.
Fiftysevenhours
Written by Fiftysevenhours
Published
Author's Note
If you've got this far, thanks for reading! Another walk both inside and outside my head..
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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