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January 24, 2013

Out of the sun emerging,

a playful cacophony abursting,

and wonderous engagement combusting,

the youth-full child is gasping

at God, and grasping

for God, in turn creating

castles out of sand –

not for morbidity but fun;

exists yet no mono no aware.


Letting drip-drip through fingers

wet sand, like that under her bottom,

she is painting her face in beams,

adorning air with laughter,

and teaching us to be

the change we wish to see.


From → Poetry

One Comment
  1. fantastic poem

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