One hand in the air, I’m waving. In the air – I’m breathing. Still breathing. Not all candles sway in the wind. Not all wicks stand tall, embedded in wax. I stand, somewhat. Still waving. I don’t want to be seen. I want you to see, to wake up and see. This full blossom of my wired fingers resembles each blade of grass in frail existence, reaching up high, not tall, not good, just.<\/p>\n
An oath taken in deep soil, where roots light up, dig down far, too to breath.\u00a0 Some kind of breath joins us. I make no mistake in naming it.\u00a0 I cannot. Left and right is a slight swing pouring into me. Now fasten me to your own selfless root and breath through me, pass life to the forefront that I may lift my head as I too fall into the rhythmic sway.\u00a0 This is my rest. Like\u00a0 me <\/p>\n
, I am grass, love me, I am you. When will you wake up and see?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
One hand in the air, I’m waving. In the air – I’m breathing. Still breathing. Not all candles sway in the wind. Not all wicks stand tall, embedded in wax. I stand, somewhat. Still waving. I don’t want to be seen. I want you to see, to wake up and see. This full blossom of my wired fingers resembles each blade of grass in frail existence, reaching up high, not tall, not good, just. An oath taken in deep soil, where roots light up, dig down far, too to breath.\u00a0 Some kind of breath joins us. I make no mistake in naming it.\u00a0 I cannot. Left and right is a … Our breath<\/span> weiterlesen