However scintillant,
One grows tired
Of suffering.

Trees grow tired
Of the fuss of leaves.

Even in the dead of winter,
We cling to final rattles.

Stark, just drop
What no longer
Gathers light.

Light already gathers us.


2 Responses to “Photosynthesis”

  1. Padma Thornlyre says:

    I know that it wasn’t, but this could have been written for me. It’s certainly something I needed to hear, and so I take it as a gift, even if it wasn’t intended so! So, thanks.

  2. wordweed says:

    You are so very welcome.

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