A Who

Do we live on the same dust speck?

An elephant can fit, as can a kangaroo; Dr. Seuss can fill a flower with rhymes

whirling asking, “Who? Who heard the voice call out from our speck?”

Two worlds emerge, hearts tied with bones and souls stacked in a row

too large to ever give way; yet it is a speck on which we live –

countless infinities on a collective inkling of life

too small to appreciate from the catastrophic American dream.

We open eyes that are not adjusted to the very light worth waiting for.

January 20, 2014

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