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July 11, 2011

things are placed in our path,

so we stop

or swerve

or leap

or linger thinking


and so each step helps define the next


deep shifting layers, palpably grinding,

on timescales fleeting to eternal,

the plate tectonics of our mythical path.


the illusion of direction, the futile narrative of destiny…

while dandelion seeds spray on the breeze like butterflies

where even gravity is negotiable

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