Untitled
Past,
And the trees were depressed,
arms sunk
as if weighted by the sky above them.
The sky was dark,
its heaviness felt by none
but one.
The rain was cold,
washing away the troubles of all
but one.
Until that one
arose.
The trees were jubilant,
vivaciously green
sighing in relief.
The sky cracked and shed its moldy skin
to reveal
light.
LIGHT.
The sweet-smelling rain refreshed none
but one.
I AM THE ONE.
Light.
Future.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world
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