one’s patina is boundless
one’s humility of being here can be just
boundless
we think we know better
humans with some great sense of divinity
being above it all
the inheritance of this place is a continuity
one we dramatically sense our birthright
the language we need to use
the bushmen
the originals
the aboriginals
the native
we humans
these two footed pedals
the rainbow that still blooms
the broken string that still rings
the stars that linger when we stop seeing
we humans
the deilght we seek yet foresake for what we call out as truth
this in front of us every moment
we have lost our ability to hear the embrace that reaches its arms out to us every moment of every moment
all words
but we are a part of this every bit of it
and we know it
the fear of it makes us believe we are above it or other than it
no control no longing no force can tell us what we want to hear
here
the truth is fundamental
we do not know
but gratitude and this longing we fear
are
enough with the fighting enough with the fingers enough with the searching
turn around
there
there
there
it is
listen to the elders they know
take care of it
they know