Friday, January 4, 2019


To be alive is to see
The sun and feel the sunlight,
Coming or going, the same,
Knowing this heat drives the night,

This feeling tells us we’re close,
So incredibly, weirdly,
Close to this sun we survive.

To be at all is to kneel
To the patterns that render
Being real, to surrender
By law or by accident

This feeling that screams being,
The incredible weirdness
Of being, near to a sun.

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