[ standing on this bridge ]
on my desk, there's a single, perfectly-folded, lily-white paper crane (i think youu made it)... sometimes i think it's all i've got. it's the only thing anyone's got. it's all the visions and dreams and arms and hands anyone has. to lift and hold... it never seems like much, but the strength is in the folds, and the folding. in that moment when the fearful symmetry of emptiness is quietly broken and that piece of carefully torn shade is given meaning, that's all there is, bursting with haiku-inspiring glory... i know nothing, i always know nothing. but you can't stop believing there's a solution. you have to hold tight to the lily-cranes... otherwise, there's no hope of flying. and humans were born with wings for a reason... through everything bad that happens. i can only try, in my awkward, skinny-legged way, to make it... less. no matter what it is. i try with all my might to point at the strawberries and, in all my ignorance, to send whatever i have. just wish it was more. |
