You stand here again
You stand where you always have –
You are five, you are seven;
You are as many years as you've ever been.
And something about the night and the way
The tree bends in the fields where
The blowers lift everything
But you – because you have smoothened your creases over –
Is reminiscent of how all loose threads belong to the same web,
You listen to hushed conversations
You shouldn't, nor should the trees listen to you
But they do, because what is living if not
Defiance against absolution. You think of running
Away, and the tree understands, because the tree knows.
But living is defying, and you are living.
Or so you tell yourself.
Raian aims to be a poet of great renown someday.
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