Letters to no one.

When the mouth of the trail became its belly,
I became aware of my death.
So much more than I've ever been,
even to the point of laughter.

I pressed onward without deciding it.
The leaves danced miracles abounding.
In life and death there is no separation besides the one you focus on and create.

I saw faces in the tree's,
they were my own expressions.
I saw the moon the red november sky.
I knew no one was coming for me.

The sun began to tear a hole in the sky and bled and wept for the trees.
The very one it was killing.
In a biblical sense it made sense.
At the time I knew,
but wasn't convinced.

I find reverence in my family tree's dead skin flaking on my shoulders,
the same one you cried on,
in the same tree we sat in,
the same one that fell right after you left.
I wonder if we're the same since you left.
One thing will always be the same,
that it will never be.

I find comfort in this old sweater.
That's the reason I wear it.
It looked like you were wondering...

I find it all so fitting when I really sit back and watch all this.


Its never so different, you know.
Especially when we're all bleeding and crying all the time.
I don't even mean to wait for you when I do,
but by the time you're back,
I realize I had been.