Outside

The trade winds at our backs,
we burnt our money, dancing
in the ashes. A new beginning
with no destiny, freedom
finally owned and lingered in.
River rapids would find us,
and the vapid southwest breeze
would remind us of our mothers
baking memories in an oven
with their sweet steam-makeup.
We conceded family and possessions
for even the threat of adventure.
I shall never forgive my identity,
it was a gift I had not wanted.
Now, tramping through God's beard,
drunk in the passion of nature,
we are only essence. Lucky to die
in the exploration, building
a sturdy sole along the way.
Let the straw grass lament our passing
so it might seem worth the outburst.
With these clothes as our only shields,
the sun and the moon might devour
our purity. Though hopelessly shallow,
we would eulogize every puddle
as we construct landscape memories.
Finally, we breathe honest air,
the same breath unseen trees share.
The good graces of being would shine
down on our questing for its irresponsibility,
but remind us of the liberty in survival.
We will raise our autumn flags
in the fortress of winter. Dark
spring mornings will birth us into summer.
The sky employs us to continue
the trek. Completion is the peace we find,
reveling in our bodies, the universe
feels less bitter when home is a daydream
and the horizon is our compass.