January 4, 2012, 10:00 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

experience growth, bend

and sway, i must, but break-

never. well… maybe.

something hurts me.

that´s the break, the freedom

in separation, the whistle call

of the wind- i fall.

face muddy,

sides aching.

and like that

it is happened,

the swooping fell.

and my roots are still

fingering the earth, i will

grow again, rough

armor breaking

down for the nourishment

of the the me that is



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