Yo Mama (Where Clouds Live)
Within the moving mirror of life
I'll often lose my face
And pebbles I've collected in my hands
Dust into the air like meaningless seekers
Like the lot of us
Who have trouble settling into the everydayness
Where clouds reflect over water
Where my face becomes a grander sum of the self
Where nothing ever dies
And what's lost is nudged by nature
to be found in the puddles where clouds live.
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