We walk different jungles
Sun spliced in different skies
Split by a slab of blue
Yet I hear

Me, here,
Walking the paths you sing of,
Making hands of the words you speak,
Arriving at the memories you’ve wrung like a
Needle stuck in my mind

Sing like your soul is on fire.
Purring of quiet as silk;
Lungs weeping raw in
Consonant melody sifted in

Spilling off palms
Soaked in the blood sun, and
In all my wandering–
I can’t help wondering if, in the end,
I discovered you
For a reason


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