if minds are like trees
will we ever break free from our trunks?
those big hunking stories
we think are the sum of us?
will we always forget
our tendrils, our twigs?
the fuzzy ferns of possibility
that are just as much us
as the weight of the ways
that we're stuck to the soil
where our seeds
once fell
and dreamt
of becoming big?
this reminds me of spider medicine -- seeing the periphery of the web, and all that we have created but don't always acknowledge. you have so many beautiful twigs and ferns growing out of that self-trunk of yours.
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