She sent a jagged rock falling from the sky
that pierced skin and ripped right through bone
to let us know we belong to the land
and it was never ours to own.
Meandering through time and mind,
we shut out the ability to grasp what is "yours" and "mine".
Left alone to our devices.
"This weight will break you.
This wait will take you."
She woke up with an ocean view and sight of no land.
We'll all tread water for an undetermined amount of time.
Most of us will drown in our own misery
before we feel the comforting relief of the earth, of a coastline.
Rising waters will erode any levee we have built
to protect our love for convience.
"This weight will break you.
This wait will take you."
We wake up with an ocean view and sight of no land.
A current that is too strong,
transcending every class of existence,
sweeping us out to sea and testing every form of patience.
This will be a monumental awakening
and the birth of a retrospective thought
forcing us out, to see.
"Is it the wait that breaks you?
Is it the weight that takes you?"