Fluttering in the wind lives the ribbon
Fluttering in the woods out of the corner of my eye
Sometimes through the trees I glimpse the ribbon
Distilling all the sunbeams, praying to the sky.
If it’s on a young tree, perhaps it’s from construction
But I suspect an old tree marks the ribbon’s timeless lie
Placed in rituals long ago to remove the dark obstruction
That sequesters the divine beyond the reach of human eye.
Sometimes when I’m looking down with glasses set beside me
I see the ribbon acrobatting in the trees nearby
The only way it has such freedom is its knotting to the treeside
If I set the ribbon free, it would descend to earth and die.
The only way it’s animated – writhing, reaching, dancing,
Is the wind invisibly surrounding it, to steer it
Sometimes I wonder if the ribbon’s measured prancing
Is describing the condition of my immortal spirit.
balladrael 
