a long road

Looking down
a long road where
there could be
a place we all belong
beginning each day again
our lives becoming alive
to each other & it is
where we go
on this way to be,
despite a rampant call of noise,
between laughter we could
be roses, or white white
poppies amidst what we
call to be ourselves, alive
beautiful and blended
with time & sorrow
it should be that our
days are long spinning
turns toward light
and that brightness of
& in only ourselves togethered
& amazed with the day as a point of light
& night’s black rest amid these other points of light…

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