Every ridge of the horizon fall and incline has been drawn by a man. They say it was someone. They say it was something. I think hands are made to make. I think eyes are seen to know. I breathe in to fall in love with my breath. I breathe out to answer the wave of new growth in the alpine zone. What color do you yield to? Where in the world is there not a clock to hear? The fall of my stepping is affirmation. Iā€™m alive! I exist! Do you ever dream right away?

Karen CygnarowiczComment