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amongst the ferns

we wicker and scare

yearning for the little finger

chance

to pay us mind

our due


but overdue is our submission to grace

of abundance

our invitation to

everlasting

the times of coming dawns

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bearthed

gravity the weighing of objects the weight of thoughts unstrung like dust in the moonlight carrying on unbound for chance at matter mattering to matter to be

whispers of the water

waded to wait wayward we fly past tall buildings of water of living light we know them feel them are them but do not know them as our own we turn obligatory circles whispers reach us and we learn

waxing blue

who is death? no enemy of time, only consequence a neutral effect of life life affected by the nature of its being i question death as only life i know for certain only where i am only passage. to tri