Sometimes I know.
When the Earth is still under a quiet Moon
Near the brim of dawn.

Through dew glint in star bright sky,
An elm’s creak.
And a frequency.

The pure, soft of light
Glow behind shadows.
It is the Milky Way.

Listen beyond the sound
Ten Thousand lives fading into focus.
On a cedar wind.

A tendril below being.
It’s always there.
In the frequency.

The fabric of eternity
A flash on the fiber of reason.
It is the dust.

How can you touch it?
The whole world inside of you.
You are almost there.

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