My feet moved, but i did not
the ground gave 'way beneath
reeled [me] into vast distances
[i was] stretched, heated, blown into
pieced apart, in and de-flated.
Many faces were cast upon me
and for every person
I fulfilled a different role
they know the "moving me"
strangers all they may well be
there is nothing to know
but that I do not exist
there is only
the memory of you
and your movement.
That memory dances,
hiding from articulation
words are too cold--too lifeless
for your description
like trying to contain
the universe in the alphabet
when the only place
it has ever fit is in the heart
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