Essence

Our pasts await us. 

They lie fallow and fertile in the fields of time, this moment 

clumped like desiccated dirt, filled

with rock and inorganic detritus, 

that moment also, subtle as

            luminescent loam, glowing

            in the reflection of memory

we reach from them, stretching

            beyond their clutch, their grasp

they reach for us, extending

            beyond yesterday’s hold on who

            why and from whence we are.

Who? Am I? Are you?

Photos, tales, and biased recollection offer

perspective that is alternately 

            grounding 

            gratifying

            unsettling

            insoluble

            mysteriously alluring and yet

            mesmerizingly alarming.

We are not what we seem, you and I.

We are neither where we have grown nor

where we grow to

or for.

For it is neither then nor when which makes

us who we are. 

It is here. 

It is now.

It is how we understand our inter-relatedness, and life’s

            interdependence.

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