06:21 AM
I am tipping backwards, toppling slowly, theatrically
Hands outstretched to tree branches as I fall into shadow,
cursing as I lose my way through the squall
It’s too easy to be good, and too hard-
So much of my identity is wrapped up in this endless flailing
But hazy blues fill my sight as I capsize,
and I am knocked out by the beauty of the tempest
The wind weaves across the water,
washing over me in pulses,
whispering in tones and syllables,
so indifferent as it wisps around my body,
carrying me in and out of harm’s way.