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I am.

My being is the same being that houses all the light When the stars waltz around the Earth night sky, that is me Oceans of eternity wash up on my shores and stir the stormy clouds. When a raindrop runs down a shiny leaf I'm there

And in the silent dead of night I hear every penny that drops.

I am the way that water knows to travel down to the sea, yet up a tree; it treks through the veins without being told which way or why

Birth and breath gasping death move on the wind in me

Never was a man, woman or crying child hidden from my sight I know all of the hurricanes and the dull sigh of "nothing much" going on.

I am the tree twig antennae signalling the sky, yearning for the sun's gaze The parched longing of the cracked desert is alive in me

In hunger and desperation, I consume rumbles of scratching and clinging on. The lover’s ache and uncertainty is a flavour within me,

And I always bear witness to one’s listening of turning to self for love. Without my judgement, lies, miracles and poker games express me:

Politicians, murderers and noble peace prize winners all dwell inside.

In feverish addiction I quietly with shadowed truth in the recesses of the mind.

"Cling to me" I will say, voice blurred and warped by sweaty moans to feel alive. And I still hold, ever patiently, those who have, out of fear or trapped darkness, closed the door on their own infinite selves.

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