Shrinking masses, a vanishing deep space…
Reading a spiritual compass shows
We are sailing there that’s scheduled surer
Than a sundial’s shadow well past noon shine.
Thus I owe you more than a holding hand…
For together how else can we mingle
Like sounds do in a buzzing harmony?
Thought in thought we will come together.
Perhaps nowhere in the lives we live here…
Not now, yet a stillborn blind horizon
Seems to be moving forward, drawn and pulled
By the gravity of what we know not.
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