If the grass reflects the blue
and winter and flowers
Are around
and the sun rays
in the sky
above me are subtly overexposing my eyes,
if this quiet afternoon
surrenders tender light
before I fall sleep
cloves suspending me
and palm trees fanning me
I will sink into the
ground
I will levitate like
clouds
I will be all things
around
If I rest like this for longer
my self will disappear,
environmental metamorphosis.
Who shall say I was here, not
the ant under the leaf.
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