Through The Singing Atoms

"His knowledge of my condition frees me from asking" - Abraham

This [[self]] bent over, bereft,
finally brave [[enough]] to bare a small bit
of [[truth]], as [[light]]ning turns the night
some strange shade of orange.

It was me who made that greeting
as you walked back down the mountain.

Only I was stone then, or
a bit of dry brush singing salaam
in the desert breeze.

This body feels it, all the pieces
it has been [[be]]fore,
atomised again and again
since that timeless [[night]],
[[now]] gathered
to make salat
and say a [[simple]] [[prayer]] of thanks
with what was thorn and pebble,

finally given one
[[moment]] of human consciousness.


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