Ports of Origin
Imagine
each morning
when we wake up
we remember where we came from.
This is never exactly the same place
in our therapeutic imagination
for the same reasons
we can never actually go home again
to that original warm wet womb
from where we first emerged.
One morning
I come from,
and hope to return to,
water.
The next morning
perhaps fire
Eastern sunrise horizons,
or sacred, yet darkly unformed, hope,
dim memories of Paradise,
integrity,
great great grandparents
so many singing, like stars
gleaming bright
and fading with first dawn's light.
Imagine gratitude
each night
we drift through our epic journey so far
within this day's point of origin
and wonder about our webbed history
sharing Earth's daily orbit rebirthing story,
awed response to where we may start recycling from
again to-gathering
all our tomorrows
into each last inviting day.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2019
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