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All ‘falling’ is a ‘floating’ for something light.
There are no hard meetings with the earth –
No deep wounds, or, breaking of bones.
Every encounter is a kiss, or, an embrace.
When the wind blows hard, it’s just a dance.
It’s a moment of rest when the wind lets up.
Whatever is light grows lighter still,
Till someday the sun shines through
And one may see the glow of its tender veins.
One day, soon, it crumbles and returns,
Like a rain drop, merging
With the waters of a still lake.

Visual response by Artisashwini