Growing like a tree,


am I the tree or am I the leaf?

And waiting,

growing up like an inverted volcano,

out like a mushroom absorbing the Earth

gaining momentum as it grows,

to know we are everything,

and to grow with it like

a film strip unraveling, our own

narrow path,

the exception and the whole.

This is here now,

but I feel as though I

have been here before.

It can be both,

my fairy godmother taps me on the

forehead with a wand striking



I see now.


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