We are born
with legs
unequipped to ferry us
through life
and eyes drawn everywhere
and nowhere
taking in nothing
and everything –
lost in wonder
and the joys of forgetting.

There were no beginnings and endings then
and yet when
we grow
we cannot help but remark at how time
flew by
in a flurry of endings
as our legs grew long,
aching under the strain
of pulling us skyward
against the pull of the dirt
we were born from
crawled over
walked on
and will eventually return to.

Our backs slowly cave through our chest cavities
under a gravity
that 10 million years of history
could not grow our spines
strong enough to overcome.

We are born dying
seeking whys
and wondering at meanings,
giving words to feelings
and puzzling at the space between words,
the emptiness between syllables
growing within our chests
until it becomes infinite,
leaving us gasping for breaths,
our backs bending through the soil
and all our willows weeping.

Cherish each step
on your unsteady legs
and love your endings and beginnings,
until you forget them completely
and dwell in the woes and joys
that exist beyond meaning
in the spaces where forgetting and remembering merge,
in the spaces where age and youth lose all meaning,
in the spaces between your toes
where the gravity
presses the dirt against your bare skin,
and you remember everything
you once forgot.

Photo by meriç tuna on Unsplash