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Sky
Writer's pictureRachel

profound


Dear Reader,


this ticking of a kitchen timer,

this turning of a corner within single frames


a slow emergence

as a Golem out of Plato's cave


to turn into


a dendrite under a bed of moss

a new gripped friction of being spoken for

a new pulse

beating

to leave humans behind

to listen



If you ever feel feral and just need a fucking second,

allow your eyes the freedom to focus on pollinators

allow the pollinators to tell you something

of purpose.


maybe means no

profound is effortless


As a lone chestnut tree,

unapologetically remembering,


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