Even if severed and separated,

or sent far, far away like the sun,

lost and forgotten,

Truth shall reappear one soon day.


For Truth is.

As begotten.


Yet, where are all the missing children?

Have they wandered too far

on horses, and in chariots, in carts,

upon mules and dromedaries?


Would we still find them by mourning

in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers,

listening, and asking questions?


And indeed,

if they were in sight, would we trust our eyes

amidst a world so often lost in the night?

Would we see even the angels

this far from paradise?


See, darkness covers the earth.

We may remain asleep and lose ourselves

to ignorance.


Or we may be blessed to rise up in splendor,

and with faith let go the darkness.


There’s an orange diced upon the plate,

the found smiles framed by grinds,

by time, by time.

And there, here, we are all children

amidst a world of seeds of morning.


We are not just the future,

but the present,

not lost,

but found.

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