Being Awake Is An Unexpected Gift

in the midst of November 

I have feelings

unusual to remember feelings

thinkings

doings 

how the crunch of leaves

the pale milk halo of light

around the streetlights

barely morning

involves my heart somehow

there is the sadness

and wonder

childlike vulnerability

after bar stumblings

quiet walks in new cities

and each echo

feels like someone else

feels like me

and Being is suddenly

breathable

 

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