Clarity

There was a time when things were clear.

 

When stones stacked close, endless

smooth edges towering, fit neatly

without notice between moments.

 

These forced steps I now take hang like a gesture

to times I cannot remember as if moss growing brighter

in dark corners, wet from time’s watering:

 

Forgotten, accidental reminders of a natural state,

taking its opportunity for flourishing when others cannot.

 

There was a time when things were clear.

Yet there is something holy when life springs from rocks dimly lit.

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