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On Mosaic Wings that Sing

Today I danced to seven drums  echoing in railyard tin  I prayed with hips that swayed and dipped  and in the river dared to swim  I channeled the stillness of kaphic mountains   while my heart changed colors with the sky Drawing faith from faithless fountains  I'm learning not to ask: but why

Red torsoed dragonflies mate four in a line I imagine joining their train  carefree hearts enmeshed with mine mosaic wings that sing Mine is a soul whose inquiry  knows no certain thing  except that prayer is a state of mind  an ancient art of remembering 


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