everything rises

Even the smoke of my lit cigarette

floats up into the sky.

“Voices carry,” is the line of a popular 80s song

that still rings true until now;

yes, even sound makes it way up.


Lies have a habit of sinking

deeper and deeper into the depths

of the ocean of all the things

that are ever uttered aloud

but the truth always makes

its steady drift upwards

onto the surface of the water.

It bobs up and down on the waves

as more and more words

are added into this vast expanse of the sea.

Truth floats,

like all things that matter.


We lift things up

or we bring them down

and in that context

we know what we value

and what we don’t.


Water falls as rain

but rises again and again as vapour.

The ashes after a conflagration,

weightless, drifts effortlessly

like our memories do,

coming back, disappearing

and reappearing,

with the wind.


And like birds,

we reach out into the heavens

and defy gravity,

aspiring to reach the heavens.


We rise, or are forever striving

to find our place among the stars.



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