Dawning Creations

All else appears so small.
We stand tall in our small shoes,
knowing it may not make a difference.

So often, a fluid connecting of words
is more so less than constant.
Silhouetted in the shadows of the trees,
we trudge on our burned black bridges,
hopping the rocks, and running down the hills,
laughing at the absurdity of our actions.

It’s steady flowing- our conversing,
unraveling with swift movements,
placing one foot in front of the other.
Our exchanging of words,
soars up past the birds of prey.
Going higher and higher, it becomes an intricate hum,
a small part of the continuous flow, unknown to us.