passing through

the moon looks
like something
I can’t name:
my dreams passing
through this open covered
porch
neighbors laughing
in the streets
the smell of
rotting forest
coming from
my hands, in
the music that
I play
I am alive
I am me
it is making
love to the
earth
to god
to be me

a sign: the
cat on the bridge
remember to
love endlessly
and unconditionally
and faithfully

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