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Words will carry us toward the clear water...

Words will carry us somehow

toward the clear, cold, pure, untouched spring....

out of thick foliage stumbling... 

arms thrashing, cursing, confused...

panting for air...

a conversation of sorts

a kind of speech that follows upon chaos

scratches, cuts and the ripping of socks...

a confused running, a sprint...

down the uninvited path

each a dead end with paradise in view

brown barks, Nature's fence...

sharp and prickly, walls of green

the creepers rising up at us, 

harsh branches...

savage vines to trip upon...

a blazing sun, the mind-fogging heat...

I want to say that words can save us...

heralding togetherness and a plan of sorts...

Diving in water,  exuberant, 

the goal of hydration, rest, some much-needed healing relaxation...

the time redeemed...

Yet something else then and there

at the moment of crisis..

yanks the mind into gear

a gravity of necessity....

just some garble of unremembered toil...


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