when the fathomless ocean
rushes forward to pull you
into the bottom of everything
how will you go?
I mix autumn leaves and crushed berries together with
the bandaids and bruises of childhood
drowning my thoughts,
watching sensibility die.
can you become what is lost?
learning about the water that takes us all
doesn't have to hurt.
hold hands with tall stands of reeds
celebrate carnivals of hungry bugs,
let fire burn your fingertips,
it will be alright.
we can all practice becoming what is lost
and glory in the music of forgetting.
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