Awareness in Rounds


Crimson poppies in green fields.

Their bright heads reaching up to pale blue skies.

Roots sinking into the rich depths of the earth

Drinking avidly at the waters that seep to them.

I seek to mimic their peaceful waves amongst light breezes.

I seek to turn my face to the sun and drink up it’s warmth.

The rain patters on the flesh, small droplets of sensation.

My hands cannot reach high enough, cannot seem to touch the center of creation.

Though it seems so close to me.

Just.

There.

The veil tears and I step through, distorted and transparent

But wise beyond my years, my eyes wide with information.

I reach through, I reach up, up into the roots of existence, into the roots of

Crimson poppies in green fields.

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