one seed
growth unseen
a rusting vessel,
flakes peeling
songs into the blue
and roots into the depths,
beyond the reach
of knowing.
wild fruit falling to
always lift us -
- promising alignment
with every season ... and the mysteries
of sun and moon -
- of life in orbit
around the centre
and the edge.
do we inhabit its flesh
or it ours?
(and)
does it matter?
...
?
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