Wavering trees, I sit among you
as the marks from the flowing
beams make their way to my feet
and your trunks. The sun has its place
in the sky, and behind these clouds
still shows itself. We do not know
our place, we’ll dissolve into ash, and
the sun will shine on behind the clouds.
I do not mind, nor do I know this
is true. I don’t actually care; we don’t
exist anyway, and the numbness of
my reality negates any change.