there are four distant pastures of be.
they are appropriately named,
beneath, beyond, behind, and before.
they all grow
as secluded meadows of afar.
some are grasslands of space,
while the others are prairies of time.
I journey them all,
as whispers from mindful breath,
sighs of the heart erupting sky bound,
vagaries of reference that roam in my being,
horizon lines that hold their ground,
as innuendos, stalling as background settings.
and if I graze,
beneath, has the facility of sensing undertow,
beyond, ask for an imaginative sense in my usage,
behind, wants memory's rearview assistance,
and before, asks for risk to take hold of my hand,
as I then journey on,
to the unexplored lands of
become, befriend, bestow,
and then, belong . . .
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