there is porous organization in custom built biomes
reinforcing the changes of the long-awaited art
fever pitch resting in the pitcher’s reservoir
reach out and pour we are all just visiting
corporeal forms integrated into the fine fabric of being
the wet works begin in the skin of the thin men
the burnished heart of quietude will blind the willfully deaf
you are not alone in this chamber begotten one
forge your destiny against the hot rocks of savage deserts
wander in the land with seeds and plant your homes
the fruit that is borne from wasteland to wasteland
makes tomorrow’s richness honey from the hive
there was time before you and time still before you
stretching out like floodwaters from a broken dam
that which was forgotten is remembered in the cells
passed down expressed and blooming in her children
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