more water

i can no longer be estranged from my reality.
searching for valves, the slow hiss of release.

some transitions are jolting roads. moving into low gears to maintain traction. there have been days, barely moving, doors jammed shut with mud. where the whirr of highways seemed distant and my soul has gone into retreat.

i retrace my steps. fingers outlining old territory. sniffing the tracks to make sure they are mine.

so much transfiguration. as the dust settles i am able to survey the landscape and find that the grass is still green.