forget about yourself

the past is a black crow flying in the opposite direction. and you're walking away and becoming quiet again, and this moment actively going somewhere. instead of stepping around the coral tree you're climbing through it, where between branches of growth and limbs of surrender you recognize a sense of passage. without shielding your eyes, it can be scary, bright, forward. it can also be beautiful watching time unfolding messy abstract art with hints of linear. where now the day beams through your window in friendly greeting.