All it might hold hidden

Somewhere I’m already dead,

Among the ferns in Costa Rica, 

An anteater,

Hunting for sweet earthy blood,

Selfless, thoughtless, bumbling

Under the green canopy,

Or held safe by pressure on a deep sea 

Floor, where the light can’t waken 

Or convict a whisper once boy

Who sat quiet to see

The top of this mother ocean,

And imagined for a full moment,

All it might hold hidden.

I may decide to ride the tide

As a single grain of black sand

Broken and born, my lava soul,

Shattered in the Bali sea,

Forever mournfully swaying 

In rhythm with the swells,

In the shadow of Mount Agong.

 Through the trick of time,

I see us meeting

In the space between

The ocean and the stars,

Where the debt of debtors is paid,

And no one is who we were,

Inseparable, indistinguishable

From the breath that is, 

was and will be.

There, only there,

We can lay down our shields and mirrors 

To rest. 

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