Feet stick and grip the floor
Lower back bends and squashes discs while floor connected.
Doors open and lines connect into us,
The wall.
Get in and be, just.
The beginning is motion, a hint. Am unspoken yet hinted pairing of synchronicity to where you want to go, and who the you, we are.
Toes fiddle and feet plant a seed of a new direction, circled out to get in once again and stand upright, survival.
Huddled masses no more, sapiens from the goo muck plan to live with the sinew and blood and bones that connect us towards a path of the unrepeated, yet followed
The iron works inside it flows and curses the stiffness of a twisted knot on the finger of soul coughing.
And when we poke and stoke madly, as well and just so, so we find, what we are looking for. And for whom we see to thine self forward be kind. Rewind.
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