I sat in a dank and crowded room
with a man of wisdom and words
who drew parallels between
the searching and the saved
a delicate conversation
over cups of coffee and
tips left in clinking change
he took his pen and with
the same stroke
created a circle atop a circle
atop a circle
with each rotation
I somehow some way
saw some thing
varied
as he narrated a world
and history belonging to him
and also to no one
a separate sea
coming together to save them
there was no difference between time
and energy
the lines ran their course
linking between motion
a living body of text
that would guide a people
for years spanning
a thousand and more
sacred paper
dictating a prologue
to the birth of humanity
adrift on seeds floating
through the sky and
scattered throughout
the fields
the ceaseless crops
of newborn hope
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