Benjamin Wolf

Southern Illinois / Brooklyn, NY
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Like a freshly fallen fruit on the forest floor you are shining, and clean, and new.

Your skin still soft and unblemished as you land in the gentle hands of a thousand blades of grass.

You roll and roll and see such sights among a golden sea of dandelions and wonder at the marvels that surround you. A soft rain hastens you along your way, cold and refreshing like shade on a summer day.

Then the rain slows and you along with it, until you’ve stopped completely.

Days and nights pass like lightning in a storm as you wait and wait and wait and wait for something more to come.

You hear a distant tapping, ticking, rapping but you tell yourself it isn’t there. Refusing to accept the arrival of a stranger whose appearance ensures an exit. And so you’ll wait, “unburdened”.
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