Pound upon
the soil, the mud,
the grass, the souls of many.
Flowing into:
a sound so divine,
a smile, a mind, the many.
Horrors climb
out of our soul.
We cleanse, we mend the many.
Parade, love and become whole.
One and one and many.
Melt, fly, love and die,
the awe of evolutionary change.
Many will always become one.
The sight of the humble, the whole
and the strange.
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