use yer illusion

i wonder, at times, what it would mean
to be a leaf: clinging to my mother tree,
moved by only the wind,
charging solely because
it is my nature –and then–
maturing to sever myself,
gaining freedom of arbitrary flight:

growing up to bring the world nothing but beauty,
nothing but grace
nothing but poetry,
lifting high upon higher
and falling merely to piss off the 10-year-old kid
with his broken rake

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