In conferences we often talk of things,
with them, who celebrate some of my things
yet when we meet on the roadside,
a thing seems to keep us
apart.
I cannot say I come from here or there,
I am here but not here – there but not there.
As I walk down this road,
I meet shying eyes, who yesterday
spoke boldly
on the oneness of the
spirit.
I turn – I turn in search of a place, where a thing will fit
even there, where it fits, it fits not there.
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