its been a long time, and I'm remembering the painted smiles of the things long past.  letting go is always close, but the sheer drop is not the trip I want to take.  a small branch reaches out towards the southern sun,  pressing further towards the warmth.  it's more then the smile I miss, it's the life that won't ever happen, and the reality of it that sinks in as Arthur Douglas once spoke of while cruising through the galaxy.  let go.  the fingers slide over each rough edge of the stone, pulling the layers of skin apart and loosening the grip.  just as gravity pulls a hold tightly , the mind remembers more.  
'the orange flowers that sit in front of the stone.  the soft glances that burn the iris.  the drop in weight as the body shifts beyond the minds comprehension.'
those moments of irrelevancy that lead to a quake.
let go.