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Sep 2014
Sitting like every moment is the first one,
The ineffable center of the spokes of time.
The air that was of magic, that contained no chemical names-
Clothed me in childlike nature, and spoke to me in riddles and games.
The wonderful, glittery .. Cancer filled, jittery.
What is this cycle of anonymous names,
amongst what have I been born?
Cubical jobs and mechanical rich snobs.
Look: We contain something within us..
-Of it I could not speak-
But climb to the wilderness mountain like the rest of them did..
Behold my brothers and sisters the divine mountain still speaks!
I come in peace. Do not offend.
Kenshō
Written by
Kenshō  M
(M)   
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