As we keep moving
A blue and purple horizon
Lines the sky as
Dark waves in the slumber winter.
Living room palm trees
And royal ferns
Are just the fraction of the plants
My mother asked me to care for.
Cars and planes rumble
Foreshadowing the day
Of our Earth’s rotation.
We move to bleed, to talk, to ritualise
That we are alive
That we are here to stay
That we are always inaccurate
And not always so authentic.
So, welcome this new day
And all the hand we have to shake.
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