Wilder Edgeness

There is a small strip of land 
Between being in a forest 
And becoming the trees 
As the rain falls 
Images of a window 
Streaked with possibilities 
Rested away from the future 
As a walk makes an accomplishment 
A silent morning is a cacophony 
And this spatial metaphor mixes with thought 
To produce a way of being that time can't prevent 
Mediated not by a person or group 
But via the melodies that skip between the leaves

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