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we are all fire
we are all fire
but where is the wind to fan the flames?
we are all storms
we are all storms
but where is the ocean to make the waves?
a surface to reflect us in our haste
when the silence says my name, i'll be convinced, that the stars will stay in place
circling around an anchor that yields it's weight, patiently waits, like the edge of an axe blade while the lonely sound of silence, burns like damp streetlamps
in the wake of thoughts in waves that swell and break, the oceans will expand, contract and slowly dissipate while all the sleepy continents can drift and wake like my shifting feet in a faceless crowd that echoes in a hazy early morning dream,
the kind where you wake in a cold sweat hours before the sun and realize in a sober fit the fact that we are all
---
branches of trees reach quite quietly like the hands of thieves stealing silence from my teeth
the lines are etched on my face, like my grandfather's name, acting out a play of impermanence