let’s imagine a world where

let’s imagine a world where
all fruitful actions are private
and we broadcast nothing of what we do
if we are seen or heard,
we’ll call this coincidence
but what do we do
when something needs to get done
is never arbitrary or systemic
but preordained over the mind

it might be said that what we see
there from the inside of the eyes
where we gather what we can,
hunting for a clue to survive,
are the bits and pieces of the pattern,
the light reaching the edge of the sky,
xthe signals we name in the darkness,
hoping to conjure up a language,
fearing forever to be alone

there is no structure or platform
big enough for two sweet enough souls
to rise up to the occasion—
only the centripetal force from every angle
that winds us all together and all up
or down depending on the distribution,
and who is speaking, and listening,
or following or dissolving in love,
cascading into every sun

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