Willows

long tendrils of green glide in whisper,
their once-silent loneliness rubbing against one another,
a blanket of branches swaying in the midnight breeze,
the soft part of something strong,
letting go

willows weep in the moonlight,
like me,
and stars show like broken glass in the sun,
past and present colliding like fusion,
opposing forces guided toward one another,
their sole purpose uncovering fundamental clarity,
peering into the face of age old questions,
leading to more questions,
knowing that finding answers was never the purpose