Perhaps it all just wants to belong,
to be seen for what we are,
to be known for the fact that by,
improbable odds we even exist.
Love comes back to collect all things
to know itself in all things.
Life as a game of peek-a-boo.
It seeks all the shadowy parts,
all the parts that feel they have no home,
that may fear being seen.
I "see you"
What if more than anything
those parts simply want to be seen, heard, felt,
from the ache in your arthritic knees
to the calla lilly in the vase
to the unforgivable act committed against you,
by you, for you, in your name.
How a quivering heart would oscillate
if it was all seen; the sublime in it's majesty
to the unfathomably grotesque
just different nomenclatures for
Lila
in it's all encompassing magnificence.
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