Our mile high markers are reduced
To spreadsheets of dead space, and youth,
As bold as the future may seem,
Embrace the fear of an unknown place,
An unknown species of fowl or fawn,
An unknown matter of rest and
Learn to obsess in the shape of the grain
Or hills that hate could never have climbed.
Sink in slow and salivate for the
Spoken word of an ancient bird so
Frightening it gives man a reason to dance.
Give yourself four hands and greet
The earth's illustrious kin and when
You've met them all you can finally begin.
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