eh.

born and born and born
again, and how many lives
will you live?
the world the world and the world
dies every night and in
every season.
and hopping from
grave to grave
how can you hope to go
beyond springing?
it may be that
you live in the leap
it may be that
you are learning flight, unanticipated
by the lazy maws, yawning below you
that even the leaves
may not notice you
crashing through them
that one day, you may shock them
altogether, by missing the ground