To take a step forward,
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Vines like fingers, wrapping around soles;
The crashing of leaves on leaves
Crunching a soft echo between trees
Shaped like monoliths;
An unstable existence of twitching standing, a
Vicarious span through the eyes of falling
Stems and greenery.
To take a second step forward,
Decaying stones pressing against soles;
Rubble of sparkling dew
Marking a passing of morning
To the strangling sun;
A beaming call to the dirt; to dry
The filth of rotting endeavors; to
Bring life from fruitless death.
To take a third step forward,
Shifting winds lifting seeds of bees,
Yellow trails to find another and intermingle;
Roots lifting along trunks to search
The sky for its purpose;
A ticking clock of river flow,
Winding the dust of time passed
Slowly in homage to quivering foliage
And forgotten lives.
To take a fourth step forward,
Grime gives way to packed clay,
Orange, soft tarnish to the gray of land;
Grass prodding the edges of what
Reflects the chaos of marching ants and
Convulsing fringes of ferns vying for blood;
A masked forge of inner material to
Crush growth and dampen retreating bark.
To take a fifth step forward,
Met with the grinding of glass and
The unnatural hump of cement and formed wood;
Movement is slowed to absence and
Estranged exhilaration, an uprising of bile and
Innate crimson felt between palm and fingertips;
Heat of forgotten past spiraling with smoke
From stacks of rock shaped like
Monoliths; A demeaning existence of motionless
Standing, a vicarious span though the eyes of
Drifting insult darkening the sky.
To take a step backward.
Pushing a lover to love another. Are you turned on?