Every time I listen to this song, it is a prayer that it reaches
a flip of heart-skin vulnerable and longing for an ancient memory of faith in
love, in being human in the co-participation in seasons of unrepentant entropy.
I cover my mouth, smile, and cry into the waves.
Listening to this once a day is a form of maintaining sobriety
from depression, interconnection from attempted in a shadow of solitude
roaming, writing these vagabond road-poet pages, kinship with the gravel and
trunks, skyward without the head-pat, shoulder-rub of god or a tender face.
Sometimes the ache. Sometimes I cry, the freight-train lovers and the enigmatic
flag of hope raised upon my mast. Sometimes I close my eyes in meditative yogic
dream and know that the voices I hear are all of you existing praying too in
the in between silence.
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