The lightness of
A dried petal
Alights
Upon the stream.
Its shape
Like a bird’s wing
Contoured
Able to hold the wind
Which set it upon
The stream
For a time.
And in that swimming,
The petal didn’t need to know
That it was the water
Which moved it
And not the wind.
And what if I said you had to be one of these things, and if you could not choose, you could be two of these things, and if you don’t want to choose you can be them all, or you can be your own invention, none of these things, and that I truly want the decision to be nothing but yours.
Petal
Bird
Light
Stream
Wind
