And The Truth Is What We Seek
Meek and humble,
relaxing in the twilight
cold becoming in the shadows
cactus spreading arms to the heat waves.
The darkness of silence has a voice,
a memory to guide us
distant remembrance of a near past
lies before us.
Knit within us like a cloth,
a fabric of DNA that binds us together,
bound in kinship layer upon layer
and the cloth is thick.
A consciousness we have barely dipped in.
A natural obscure occurrence,
a gift and I accepted it,
life is born every minute.
Dreams are changed as the day breaks.
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