you still exist.
the fallen molecules of your
material body are still one
with the intricate soil of the earth.
you exist as the the shadows that show us
our own altruistic reflections,
and as the sun that shines on them.
it is you that greets us in the morning
with a cool breeze on our face and
you, it is who evaporated from the rivers
only to find those faces again.
you exist as these fumbling words that
are poured out by my rambling mind
and you exist as the poetry that
i don’t yet call mine.
time’s racing chariot will pass us by
old friend,
and that won’t be enough to stop you from
growing in the majestic roots of a tree,
or as the fruit that it bears or
as the seed that the ones after us throw out
or as the tree that flourishes from that seed
and again and
again and
again.
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