The Ether

under june sun needles of grass fight fiercely for a spot tucked beneath my pinky toe and billions of loam particles. others disperse once this spot is taken crawling their way to the arch of my foot, cooling the carefully stretched muscles. they are low viscosity beings. i caress them with all 5 of my medium sized toes, brushing back and forth, letting brave needles war for space in between each toe. when the novelty wears off, i switch from toe-teasing to grasping at full chunks of grass, uprooting children of the earth from absent mothers with the twist of my fingers. no inch of grass is spared from the expense of entertainment until at once, i pause, chilled from the paradox of my enjoyment under the sun and my pillage of lone grass towns.

i part with my veritable victims, wrapping my callused palms around my legs and pulling all of my ligaments flush against my chest. breath becomes a conscious fixation. under june sun i am one breath away from transcendence and another breath away from the precipice of novelty. under june sun i am allowed a brief sixth sense. under june sun i step forward and backward in time charting multidimensional possibilities. under june sun i’m frozen in terror. under june sun i embrace light as my maternal grandmother. under june sun there are fireflies humming beneath the earth waiting for my soul to accept their company. under june sun i wield a dual-edged blade, piercing my adversaries. under june sun i embrace staccato notes and bookmark legato for the winter. under june sun i am no longer afraid of falling because what is falling but temporary teleportation. under june sun i am a retired resident of Respite Ave. under june sun there is only one puzzle remaining to be solved. 

are my medium sized toes, arachnid inspired fingers, slightly asymmetrical bodice, sublimely large forehead ready to be put on display? searched earnestly from top to bottom? perused honestly without effort or expectation? torn apart and rebuilt for science sake? loved wholeheartedly under june sun without UV protection? 

i fondle the chunky loam and roll around in the smoother clay as i ponder all the elements one should be banned from exploring. i discover things about myself at an exponential rate, and neglect them linearly. needles of grass remind me of roots. remind me i am a rooted being temporarily lifted from her loam. needles of grass usher me to my next destination, demonstrate that roots can be formed again. 

bricks and clay. grass and loam. 

i am full without a home. 

here’s a little contemplative playlist i love to ruminate to when my toes are tangled in the grass