false opposites

the wind is like a hand of a thousand fingers running along an endless sea of tree leaves

we exist to catch emotions in glances, the pinpricks of something bigger than ourselves

just enough to be noticed behind the eyes

the mages of time live in the instant between the signals your eye gives to the mind

and the lie that morality defines are birdbath reflections of an indifference wishing to be realized

despite the bonds, we lean forward into this geyser of a dive and are lifted up for that moment where emptiness abides and loneliness is divine

sight preaches or cries, begging to be set aside

so too tornadoes will always set gently down the innocent

to continue its dream of life through an unforgiving tide of courtship by predators and strangers to find