Voyage
The material solidity taken for granted
Begins to move like plasma
The earthquake rocks the old sensibility
For nothing conforms to old belief
Again, boundaries fluid move
In out around a narrow space of certainty
In which we figure we are defined.
And between the borders
That separate what is left of what we
Know of us
And the strange irreducibility
Of paradigms to truth
We float like specks of dust
Waiting to be discovered by what is within us
That we may discover it.
And still flowers in the garden bloom the same.
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