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  • Only the embers shape lifting into a temporary triangle
    a flame with careful breath intent on expression
    of circular gestures delivered along specific occilation
    of tethered reflections spoke
    in the language I knew in a instant.

    they speak still,
    in the seasons,
    human attempt to reach
    a new distillation that points to the infinite

    I couldn't tell anyone,
    that these were the simplest of my ideas
    when I broke my chains,
    the ones my father used
    to try to tie me to
    a tree in the backyard.

    It was the moving parralells
    overlaping into helix's
    that grounded the loose strings
    into a coherent calls.

    It was the branches in the trees,
    the spinning leaves,
    the snowflakes,
    the whispered notes
    cascading out of possibilty
    towards uncontained actualizations.
    I have been running in a dance
    , an endless shape caressing fenced hellos
    , Banging on doorways
    in patient bursts,
    until I timed out
    the arrival of light,
    in order to learn
    my travel lessons.

    leaving notes, so we might remain
    a little longer in the senses of now

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