A Lofty Quest

What lies beyond the river. We set boundaries, give titles. Ocean, lake, creek. Penninsula.
Species. Genus.
Family. Order. Class.
Phylum. Domain.
Life. What is a life. Who defines it, us. Life may well be literature, or perhaps just a form of documentation. We are islands. I am a tree.
What makes us so weighty when branches bow with serenity, some for thousands of years. A lifetime is not a span of time, but a manner of being. A definition, bending towards the inevitable. Blood is water. Our lives are creeks, streams, then dams. Is anyone an ocean.
What if we all believed the advice we told others. Often, we do. Everything to have meaning. We need to be assured.
We tangle ourselves in the webs of our lies. To our children. We are as children even in business suits. How befitting to our illusions.
If I knew myself I wouldn’t be here.
The tide is coming.
I’m sorry.
The tide is combing.
Breaches in security laced the ivy of the cottage. The glass is half full.
Is there any cure. Can the tethers be untied. Our convictions. Blinding is binding.
I am aware.
He was sorry. The seams were broken. I tire.
I was aflame then. I should call her.
What is food really. The staple of life forms. Source of gluttony. Laced in our lies.
Return to the primal. Rests about all else. The sponge of this sentence shall soak in these words.
Can one contain a moment as an insect in a jar.
I foamed with apologies. He craved explanation.
If not then what are we. I wonder. Life forms.
Days collect as coins clinking in my pockets. Innumerable. Is life gluttonous.
If only we lived as stars. Do you wonder too.
Soon. Our days slip beneath the boards. If given the choice, I would fade.
Behind the sheds we watch them run. Behind the sheds we watch then run. The caves of ourselves were plush with lies. Our mouths were sticky. I tire.
If words are gifts then can lies be gifts. The darkness ever cease. If lovers can be liars and living between the framework of living and dark matter. Does nothing ever matter.
The tide is creasing.
Absence of wonder. Must all produce an answer. What is truth but what is claimed. The sable horse emerged from the stable. It bit my finger.
How does the lack of life process.
Photosynthesis. Aerobic respiration.
We are the boughs.