Photo by Sebastian Klein on Unsplash
When mounts reach climax on top of hills,
chills run down the spine of the extraordinary;
comfort creeps inside chests of hollow,
follow the paths of evolved beings, staples in granaries,
begotten the fellows of old where being was ‘splendid,’
where the self became a shadow of the spatial collapse,
waiting inside the planet for evolution to begin with the collider.
Part of me is existence,
yet, only one exists for the time being, losing themselves inside process,
inside are partial rain flowers attracting hummingbirds,
greater perennials grow outside where the sun catches the rye.
Willows welcome the snow bird; they know their time is coming,
shattered glass inside forbidden churches,
knowledge is best retrieved from inside spaces of truth,
spaciousness is retrieved from earth; the great green and blue.
Spinning globes return the earth at sundown,
ocean’s great vat urns for return to the deep shallow,
tides recede as day ends and one follows the courageous road, home.
Shadows evolve around our being, united with the Universe,
inside the great divide sits a single line,
crossing borders as we continually shift the center of gravity,
it’s the kind you know, the earth does too, it belongs.
Here, we spin wool as sheep roam by on hill tops,
green from Ireland rain and the wind’s hallow,
spirited as one grows tulips in one row, then, daisies in another,
this is the truest gift of life,
friendships in circles around the sun.
Anna Rozwadowska 2022 (with contribution J.D. Harms)