when force applied is
personally felt as a gift,
when the inward draw is
somewhat a forthcoming demand,
when personal interest is
like the intimate pull of gravity,
is that when what is . . .
does itself,
as my awareness?
so when I am a palate
looking up at the brush leaving me,
as voice,
as touch,
as thought formed,
where is the sea of us
relative to my circumstance?
I am violated
just to be a person,
when my calling out
speaks for everyone. . .
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