Place

Noticing is it seems
The truest of magics
We look at things as they look back
In open wonder that we see them so constrictedly
Held so carefully inside ourselves that we become parasite
Symbiosis rejected for submission
Yet the hunger remains in us, gnawing
Our bellies contract painfully at the void
And so they cry out to us, who will not hear that they speak
Even as our very skin resonates with their songs
Small tendrils reaching for the nurturing of the primal
We must choose in these moments
True-eyed moments
Heart-cry moments
When the strange thrum of knowing fills us
When the hungering is appeased
When the quiescent awakens, stretching gently to feather against our inmost secrets
Crying out not to close our eyes against all the worlds offer
Of beauty and of terror
To ourselves unfold, flowering
Rooting out into each thing, being rooted in turn
In that strange space finding that we are never more restricted
Than when we refuse to be bound

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