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Click hereWe take our spoons and dig
at the soil, at our own skins
we search, seek, scrape away
until and if, or when we arrive
at a core we are forced
to admit that the entity we knew
as us was nothing more
than leaves and dust, falling
to earth, yet
ever...so...often
one leaf would seem to grow wings
and escape the boundaries
of gravity and commitment
expectation and regret
and in those seconds spent afloat
we knew what it meant
to be free
Very nice poem. The first stanza could possibly benefit from a few less words. The "one leaf would seem to grow wings" stanza is quite lovely.