Cherubic Hymn

What have I done with what was given to me,
I thought I let go of it!
With confidence,
I thought I spread out on the clay fjord
and announced myself as bread for birds,
my red, blue, orange skin refuge
for copperheads and cottonmouths.
Maybe I thought I would have eroded
by now, maybe this is where I erode to,
maybe it is time again.
I did not imagine I would wash up here,
nor did I really plan for procedurally (re)generated
always-obligations, always-responsibilities, always-exposure.
I let go of what was given to me because I thought
I had enough and I was wrong and I will always be wrong
until every grain of sand finds a resting place.