growing up.
A possibility of taking any one piece of my uncultivated self and focusing upon it 1000 beams of light and love, well, thats scary, because the higher you
grow, the further you are from the furthest part of yourself, your toes, squelching through the mud-streaked grasses and the gravel and the dirty pavement and the trash.
Can you still see and know and feel the ground, once you've set yourself on the path of soaring; do birds think of their feet as feet anymore? A reality in which there is an AWESOME version of me that doesn't forget how to love being average...Roots and trunk and sky-scraping,
manifest, self-actualizing trees. Growing UP. A big big tree that kids weave all their memories through and around and around and around.
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