We are water in a great river.

Each with a clock buried deep within

as we search for a place not yet seen.


We move in flocks and herds, down

roads without numbers, climbing stairs

to doors unfamiliar.


There is a calling within a few. A

message scrawled on the heart, a word

remembered, a gift yet used.


We are a great rush of sound over the

earths uneven surface as we become the salt

of ideas and inventions, defying sleep

and rest.


We are a sense of power, though not

one of us can take credit for the simple

beauty of being the creating a flower.


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