The soul's deepened sigh flutters and lands upon the small heart. Awakened touch throbs in her whispered embrace.
Gnarled and lifeless how old are their souls? How long have they stood in their splendored green dance and then the stillness of standing unmasked?
How deep the roots to hold them still. Does life still flow and only the mask is removed? If you cut them would they bleed?
Upon the earth's loom the standing threads call. My spine against the old soul's spine. The soul's deepened sigh and quivered touch caresses spine against spine. Awakened touch throbs in her whispered embraced. Gnarled and lifeless how old are our souls? Sitting unmasked we are encircled by splendored green grass. The answer is yes, we will bleed. We will stand.