that before which became

the heart of unrealized redwoods 

lies in the scrub forest minds of wooden pawns.

the scrubbed beach glass surfaced,

belies the broken bottles of dreams drunk from.

the worn down tire rubber on tedious roads,

invisibly sighs for the tireless journeys made.

the un-raked leaves of last fall's landings,

now prays of disintegration 

into sight of next spring's sky.

where we took breath days ago,

lives within to give, as us life 

in animation's prose.

for now, 

we all have thoughts and afterthoughts, 

as floorboards of tomorrow's actions, 

set to deeds.

for there are seeds that come 

from the biblical of beginnings.

there are grains of sand 

that became the glass of toasts.

there are milky liquids of bark 

before the journey of tire sighs.

there are free-fall bio-degrade-ables 

still as fixtures with sky-bound hope.

oh, and that oxygen taken in, 

is the breath-work done, 

to fancy us, 

from that before, which became,

us, as organisms of the living now . . .