A harvest of fervent awareness
taps at the glass with eager tendrils.
Releasing her deepest doubts,
she nourishes the future
with abounding possibility.
In the quiet hours of night’s slumber,
a lone electrical pole exposes
herself to the winds of change.
She steps gingerly up and away
from her tidy plot of ground.
With long roots fluttering,
she surfs ever-evolving whims
with the calming assurance
that she’ll carry her identity
into the forward motion of time.
Voices creak like rusty chains,
like floorboards decomposing;
words spiral around her soul.
But sifting through their meaning,
she hears naught but a flutter.
Thus, propelled by the current,
energy emanates from her being
as she comes into her own,
while the wires who were once taut
now wave to a flow of pure notion.
And the whispering dawn applauds
beyond hesitation’s long shadow.
Casting light with a free-will,
balancing the high-wire,
braving joy in the raw.
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