wildness is a stick of wings beating me.
it is the only way I am a breath of fresh air.
I am exhausted from answers
pleading their case,
but yet I am the shelf-life of timeless.
I have epics as pauses and eras as yawns.
you fooled me into the persona of existence.
I am now married to matter as if by consent.
but I am from before constant had observation
as coexistence,
before know had a ring to it,
before the future becomes a drive-by.
I am the banana peel before the slipstream
in a world where there are no accidents.
know of me intimately
as the conscious blossom of you.
for we have no doubles of ourselves
yet we truly exist as non-separate.
we, as diversity, are yet the mystery
of our oneness becoming . . .
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