You stand here again

You stand where you always have –

You are five, you are seven;

You are as many years as you've ever been.

And something about the night and the way

The tree bends in the fields where

The blowers lift everything

But you – because you have smoothened your creases over –

Is reminiscent of how all loose threads belong to the same web,

You listen to hushed conversations

You shouldn't, nor should the trees listen to you

But they do, because what is living if not

Defiance against absolution. You think of running

Away, and the tree understands, because the tree knows.

But living is defying, and you are living.

Or so you tell yourself.

Raian aims to be a poet of great renown someday.