Ask away, child, away and away
in the vast of your precious life.
Questions are in order.
You want word of yourself
on your way to grandmother’s house
through the white of falling snow
where all go, time-traveler,
little sister sequoia sea,
seek of fleeting brush
and stopping stone.
A matter of mattering, fire child?
Summers rain. We winter dark.
Thunders rumble omens.
Lightnings ravish nights.
The growing green
loves the life of its blood.
Mountains make mouths
we enter and climb.
Valleys embrace the quest.
What more can a seer say?
Truth is eternally conscious.
We awaken on stepping stones.
Life lives us as we live.
No end is in sight.
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