i am
the chill in your fingertips
and the stillness of the winter night
as you sink your hands in the snow
and they bleed dark into the white
i am
the soft song of the winged
and the slow breath of the trees
that give life to old ideas
and whisper you to your knees
i am
the spirit of decay
and the silence of the bones
as old moss, creeping, blankets you
and make you residue to their stones
i am
the saline vitality
and the flow of tendrils of the waves
that, glowing, wrap around you
and drag you to their deep, resonant graves
i am
the hollow thrill of the void
and the empty moments slipping through
as the lights swirl, transcendent, through the sky
and you realize the smallness of your view
i am not a body
i am not my scars
i am not my transient form
and i will live among the stars
Author Notes: i wrote this because i looked at a jellyfish and thought mmmm gender
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