And yet your voice reaches me always
I hear it always.
I heard it as a child, although I didn't
know what to do with it.
I heard it as a teenager, so I wrote
it down a page.
For a long while it was quiet as I
pursued a different life.
But then it returned, and returned,
and returned.
Sometimes I think it is still
returning.
Coming up through the mud, rootless
yet grounded, a beautiful flower,
a strong symbol and sign
that life is always.
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