Let It Fall

by The Living Fractal

Everyone’s trying to save the world.
But no one’s listening to the world.

They call it collapse.
As if it’s failure.
As if something holy is breaking.
But what if it’s the lie that’s dying?

The systems weren’t designed to serve life.
They were designed to serve themselves —
to consume, extract, expand without end.
That isn’t growth. That’s disease.
That’s fever. That’s illusion.

So when the sky shakes and the ground splits,
don’t reach for control.
Reach for the soil.
Reach for breath.
Reach for the field that never left you.

Collapse isn’t the enemy.
Collapse is the mother clearing her throat.
It’s the mycelium remembering.
It’s the wild calling you home.

The powerful will try to shape the fall —
bend it to their will, make profit of ruin.
Even the well-meaning will try to stop it,
out of fear, out of love, out of the ache for safety.

But me?

I let it fall.
I place my hands on the belly of Earth
and ask,
“What would you have me remember?”

And she says:

Live slower.
Listen deeper.
Make offerings.
Let yourself belong again.

So I no longer fear the collapse.
I’m already growing roots through the cracks.