6-11-20 Upside

 paint smeared on the leaves of trees

water gushing from the rocks that we climb 

lightning strikes and the ground is now a canvas of prime 

we dive deeper into the puddles of purple and blue 

soon we will see tree trunks touch the sky 

soon we will see leaves float 

the puddles will drip onto our foreheads 

we can sleep on each and every cloud until we feel weightless 

what does it matter anymore to be grey when everything around us is tainted in prime 

lightning is cold 

we can climb endlessly 

there isn’t an end

this is the upside of things 

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