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Thursday, June 20, 2013

The Beautiful Thread


and we will remember
                 we are filaments of sunlight
                                           remember to feel
                                    how we are
                       threaded around
         vessels of wind
                       our skin our eyes
                                      painted and glazed
                        by sky and loam
          and we will know
  the weaver
          how we learned
                       to crawl
                             on her grass skin
                                            how she weaves us
                                 as she weaves
                      every strand
  of the dandelion’s seed
                       and we will remember
                                          she looms us
                                                    equally
                                 from love as from pain
           and we will memorize her
 scent her rain
             her vistas
                      not her replaceable names
                                             already
                              when we have felt
         such great exhilaration
                               that we saw our own wings
               we remembered man
                               was not meant to fly
        so we have not forgotten
 everything
         is shaped in patterns
                            of wind
                                   like sinews of sand
            undulations of sea waves
the wind changes
              everything
                       that is its power
  when lonely or confused
                       we made ourselves small
                                             translucent
                                         quartz
                               sand grains
                   dandelion seeds
and the wind carried us
                      where we wanted to go
                                          and we will always
             treat innocence as God’s knife
                               so we do not cut our selves
                                                 with remorse
                                      so we can know
                              gentleness
                  and compassion
and we will remember you
                       grandfathers saying
                                    if we must close our eyes
                               to dream
               we will recognize
                               our own deaths
                                           our worries
                                our laughter
       our free or guilty thoughts
                                 are all plumes of chant
                   we will remember
 everything in beauty
                   we will remember everything
                                             in beauty
                            that is the thread
             we are woven from

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