Thursday, January 6, 2011

No. 119

Voice, as it storms through 'who we are',
rips 'humanity' from our grasp
And, on the wind, redefines Us
to something which only survives
In the moment:
Precious
Pure
Pulsing Life...
The birthplace of creativity
and the very beginnings of We
Who
together strive
to honor the freedom
Gifted to us by Masters
Who perhaps knew what they were preserving
in hopes that one day others
could realize It
and find the way Home
in ecstasy, freedom, and in song.

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