‘journey to the center of me’

In the dip of my
suspension bridge heart
lies a letter to my next incarnation; it reads:

The problem of Time is solved
by becoming, we are

Lodged between beginnings like
foodstuff in our teeth.

May they seek earthly things like spices and the scent of green.

May their harrowed orbits unravel and lay flat to dry; we are

like Time, consistent with Time, our materials
simply warped and rearranged; we are

Star stuff in chaotic alignment —
again, and again, and again.

 

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