Another Passerby

Endless petals
Drip down my face with the wind
Breeze rippling through my lavender shirt
Reaching through me
With the whistle of hidden bird
I, drenched in peach buds
Floating in their skin
They have the breath of coral
Fuchsia weaving through their botanic veins
Vibrant touches on the cream canvas
Sound in the silence
Subtle pulses
Quiet rushes of light
Air dances along my torso
Buoyant footsteps cross me
Those whispers pressing down on my chest
Pecking at my sides
The pristine crunch beneath their toes
As they stumble over stray freckles
Free falling through life
Through me
Like me
It’s not cold
Nor searing with heat
It’s nothing
Nothing at all
The air is vacant
No pollen
No emotions prancing through me
No temperature weaving through its translucent atoms
That doesn’t mean it is devoid of potential
There is an esoteric energy
Floating among my form
I inhale
Oxygen does not approach my lips
Just a vine of sounds
Beats and letters
Lines and volume
An echo
The echo
This echo
This poem
Another passerby.


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