the truth is

I am nothing

sand crumbling

blown by the wind


is my becoming

the truth is I am a tree

these roots planted 

by none other than

the truth is

lovingly unknowable

as it folds and unfolds like the sea

taking with it what no longer is or ought to or can hardly bare to be

as the wind wanders along the spine

once again I learn to breathe

for loving the unknown

is what sets me free

One thought on “the truth is

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