Here

Here

These are life lines where the
new road run along the old road.
I can see it still imprinted on the earth.
Along the winding route that forks
people are always moving, even those standing still.
And so the old world exists under the present world.
Among the bones and bleached sand the sun leans
through the window, an early morning surprise
to let me know
I am not going anywhere but Here.

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