You are already you. There
is nothing you need to
prove nor account for— 
nothing needs to be done
to see yourself further
realized.

Our actions are forever
betraying our convictions,
exposing the smooth
contours where we've
molded our hard truths
to the form of
​our soft comforts.

The fog’s captives
were held
motionless
and entranced— 
frozen
in a bearingless
nothing.
There had existed
within them
only a moment
of anticipation
as the grey
encased them— 
vacillations
between the loss
of one world
and acceptance
of another.
As its vaporous
cold snaked
through their
clothes and into
their bones,
it whispered
a silent boast
of how quickly
they could be
made to forget
all they thought
they knew
to be certain.

It’s not that
they don’t speak— 
it’s that we
won’t listen.
We hear only
with our ears
now—tuned
for only our
own tones.
Their language
is subtle
and comprehensive;
a language of
truths without
motive, born
of a life
we’ve turned
away from.

What other species, upon being
brought into existence, is
expected to account for what
they are going to "be" and/or
"become?"

It struck me that
taking life and giving
life represent two perspectives
of a single act.

How grossly misguided it is 
to interfere with the motivations
​of Nature.