Soil

I lie here,
Toppled.
But I suppose they had a reason.
I have, once again, been knocked down.
A pessimist I am not, but
I will not get up,
Not this time.

I will rest gracefully below this sky.
I will study what I see.
And what I see above me are clouds.
In those clouds I see what I need.
But it seems, it is here
nestled in grass and one with Earth
Is what I want.

I ponder
When my heart ceases to race,
When my heart ceases to be,
What time will the sun read in this sky?
As the wind envelopes and hugs what is left,
I ask that it sings such a hum,
That I am never truly gone.

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