Lent to me, the general at-oneness
originating in uncomplicated things.
After being away, it returned.
It found me again – a hesitation.
And with it, the eyes walk and walk,
finding passage in-between every second.
And then they turn, and turn until
something resonates within, grazed by new light.
And then, always the desire to write
what is there as the picture patiently develops.
In the comfortable air, what I saw –
a naturalness, for instance, could be its name.
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