some barriers are thicker than others
but all light pushes the same work
day after day

anything that remains of your doings
is a message to anyone that sees it
so be concise

a small wick, too useful,
can only be ignored for so long
a large chaos moves with no center
and only has to be endured

and what of the heart that has no tear
ample room and time to spare

if no light gets in, who can say
they haven’t found a better way

i’m a fire on a birch tree
mourning after knowing
porous nature of growth

i look down, what can’t be stopped
watching what can’t be stopped

everything rooted
but eventually freed

a sheet of humid air lies
confused between currents

a sunshower falls
over the patient occupants of the park benches

and the hill leads to the river