|14 May 2005 @ 06:40, by John Ashbaugh|
Friday evening suburban sunset into an inner city dawn. May thirteenth into the fourteenth. Desert flowers surround the tall twin headed yucca, flowerless itself this season, waiting for its time. River runs full, while sparse vegetation on volcanic slopes shimmers in sunlight. Ribbon of water rises and falls with the passing seasons in the valley between the mountain forest and the volcanic desert. Sunrise over the forest. Sunset over the desert flowers. The time is transition between darkness and light. Soil receives the root while our air receives the branch. Every thing begets itself anew. We are becoming something else. Who we were disappears into memory. Who we have been becomes whom we will be, and those of us whose sight is clear may show us a way. Those of us who look for and listen for truth shall find it. When all of the lies have melted into the endless waves of sea, we shall be who we are meant to be, and join the interstellar community.
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