I
go where no ‘find’ can save me. I ‘sense’ what dissolves in report. I breathe
‘emptiness’ into familiarity yet I mirror here rock-solid before you. I carve
ice sculptures from my tears gathered. Walk in large circles, avoiding any eye
to eye. Shun touch that diminishes our connection. Experience silence as loud
as we can endure. Destiny is ‘pointing fingers’ that anoint me. Interruption is
every step forward embracing. Turmoil is a placative means of calming down. Chaos
is the collective applause in the doing. Who am I if not you in the making? Why
am I here, was your call before birth. That this is confusing, is our work at
hand. There is only one of us, when all is ascension.
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