Child Of The Dawn

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And so the mottled child forlorn

wanders in from his journey home,

out of the soothing patter

of a warm rain

that fell across last night unrestrained.

Where have you been?

I ask him standing

in that light streaking

from between clouds and moments now breaking.

All the while silent answers flow

unhindered from his sodden features.

From somewhere deep inside the identity

of bone and stone,

being love and washing fear,

out of time’s dark narrow funnel.

From a place preceding sight,

through which all things,

both suffered and enjoyed,

must pass, coming and going,

all matter, dreams and light,

cosmic dust, water and smoke.

 

6/30/17

 

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