the borders of our being

There’s just not enough hand,

To hold all this sky,

To cradle this dust-worn land,

To cradle your hurt-torn sigh…

There’s just not enough lip,

To form all these words,

To gracefully let slip,

The sounds like wild birds.

And all this lack, all this too-much,

Is housed in a soulcrack, for such,

Is the way of space-

It cannot abide, by all our Inside-

It sees no place,

Vast enough to fit all that we hide.

Within a moment of time,

Lies infinity-so they say.

And what of this ryme,

And of our joy and love and pain-

where does all this Being stay?

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