Disposable Poem #169

2015-06-14

We awoke
dipped our hands in stardust and squeezed
and filling the night with millions of lights
We found
mud to play with, making clay shapes
who bathed in the light and danced in the night
We made

Strange chance
that a line in the dust should dance
or that we should care for their romance
and discover a voice in the churning of choice
amid chance

and yet

Here we are
teacher and student, seeker and guide
improbable partners on an unlikely ride
while dancing out trust. still we remain lines
in the dust

(riffing on Meghan Currie’s talk..)

This document was translated from L^AT_EX by H^EV^EA.