29.27

On the ground.
Grounded.
Firmly standing I see
straight streets and pretty houses
painted in similar tones.
Each one the ghost of the next.
Beige
Line in. Line out. Row after row.
Just like headstones, in a line
with corpses rotting
beneath, below.

I rise up.

Up above the clouds.
Below I see the mountains.
In the mountains, the streams
RUN WILD, RUN FREE.
Cascading this way, then that.
Coursing, Surging, Plunging
to the path of least resistance
the ocean their goal.
To join the others who have run the path before them.
To be a part of the motion, the energy existent in the ocean.

I do not want to live my life
like a corpse.
Dead in my shell.
Dead in a row.
One by one. Line by Line. Day by day.

I want to life my life organically.
Coursing, Cascading, Flowing
as I run the river.
Finding bliss in my return to the ocean.