The else of somebody's

Today I saw white around the trees
which reflected in the brilliance
of the outline of the sky,
that in turn reflected on my fingers

and I saw each aspect of myself,
painted blue through a vastness
I could not comprehend,

comprehension of a kind where
you hold out your palm and I curl
into the lines which imprint on me,
print the lines and hand them out on silver platters,

you'll wake when you realise
the platter does not exist at all,
only the molecules of me which you choose to breathe,
into you, from out, always without after,

A whole in a fishbowl of halves,
we slice ourselves and offer the pieces
to those we think worthy of our worthiness,

paint yourself green and sleep with the trees,
they tell no lies, ask no truths,
only, they whisper of comings and goings
and purity of self,

give it all to the fore and forgive that
which has never been given,
we are not the else's of somebody
but the body which belongs to

the sum of all our else's!