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Tuesday, June 13, 2017

The Gift

We are the en-souled
Creatures rising in the dark
Reaching out, alone

We did not choose, life
To come to be, we awoke
A poor creation

Birth is concrescence 
A continuum of fear
In the heat of love

The wheel of life turns
Not one of us asked for it
The imposition

Witness the divine
The sacred obligation
We tiny creatures

The week and condemned
A crown of fire on our heads
Burning hail and coal

My aching spirit
Lift me to another world
Weaving threads, and dreams

The wheel turns again
I could lift it like Atlas
As Hercules did

Hand me the lever
Archimedes will move it

The stars shift again 

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