From thy slumber to thine sun bleeds over the horizon.
Quilting its way around by our every moment, it's there.
An askew picture.
An involuntary visionary experience.
Hailing from the splitting crusted womb of the land.
Your fiery invite.
Your own existence piercing yourself in double vision.
Or do we ponder ever so generously,
Doing all we can but learn?
From our mistakes we earn the lessons of our buried,
When desire means chance and history meets present.
This is our time.
This is ours.
Are we only this?
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