I ate the deer
The deer ate grass
The grass drank sun
It’s all clear
How it begun
Begging the question
I badger the witness
For the fiction of direction
It’s a grievance redress
Now the span of now and then
Places claim
On was and when
The whole and lame
One by one arriving
Embracing the twisted knots
In the striving
Of rooted thoughts
The breeze of evening
Differed not
From the wind of morning
Though they forgot
We carry light
We sit on air
We do and do not care
We are we are
The hands that turn
A shining star
That saw forever burn
So tread
Tread well tread sure
Release that dread
And release measure
For the throbbing of a great heart
Is the only source of art
Pulse
We Pulse
© [Alexander V. Weir] and [The Fractal Journal], [2017]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Alexander V. Weir] and [The Fractal Journal] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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