musk deer

emotional clinging is like
holding sand tightly in our fists
that naturally escapes
leaving only a desire
to wash away the grit

goodbyes like the semblance
of the breeze in that fleeting touch
of hair blown softly over the face
stinging.. getting into our eyes

we never let relations breathe
like that tree who shelters so many
retaining their freedom
to fly away at will

and it feels like life dies
in the tiny dewdrop
drying as if it never was
only to tremble with lush
expectation of each new day

and crazed like the musk deer
we run around in renewed frenzied search
of an essence held within all along