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Ravenous Roots
Ravenous Roots
Because the stairway above our heads
leads to the world of roaming ghosts
and galloping unicorns,
because the sun is
the moon’s exuberant twin brother
and her undying dawn,
we must suffer the somber span
of moments;
this bitter worship,
this delicate death
only granted
to the animal heart.
Billowing from burnt homes
is the smoke
of lived years
traveling far past
the atmospheric lines
to embrace some ethereal atom
in dark divinity.
What matters in this universe?
Ants scrambling
over their collapsing mounds?
April snow melting
on a quiet mountain peak?
Our unsung souls
as vague and fluid as time?
In defiance,
may our bodies occupy
their birth-space
like ravenous roots
that penetrate
clay
and stone.
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