the quintessential need to breathe and have the breathless life
the dying to be grounded and the living found when ground disintegrates beneath like hate and rates the smaller things too high, the higher things too lowly miserable to know what's next, what's best, what's in the way for more and what is all the rest.

how am i to know, All-Knowing, whoever You might be in me in him in finding and in dumbfounded fear and trembling.

like the tree chilled through with seasonal death, mother-water turned to ice, tearing limbs from trunk in irreverent disregard for life or strength or what should be.

and what of me?

am i too small?

am i nothing at all?

why am i alone in this which makes no meaning from seeing or tasting or feeling which is beyond what my mind can know and journey to or through or beyond, like a wall You never intended us to scale, we are pale in death slow creeping over us because we fail.

and in our failing you found me, tangled, tired, barely living, and giving me the breath you took before breath knew another, i rose and wander and follow and fall again...

such confusion.