We are the messengers
of our own fate weave.
I find my hands
are your wings forming.
Your eyes
are my tunnels’ lighted end.
We are so statues
of personality
of the effortless inner glow.
I affirm your mystery
as my inspiration.
Your voice shares me
with your soul.
Earth’s manners
will teach us
soil’s selfless joy.
And in return,
we, as one, regain.
I do not wonder
what emptiness will say.
For the emptier I am,
the fuller we are
to me.
Do not find me way.
Finding me,
means you.
That is all,
that I care . . .
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