Before me, behind me, around me


With no beginning or end it appears

without breathing lives

thousand upon thousand of

unique views

each pushing outward

each pushing

the water

splashing

forming

always forming

there

around us

before us

between us

there

always there

do we even care

ears cupped

against the tin

hearing voices that are not there

moving as if together

yet always apart

following the single dot

wandering the well worn grass

until we realize

we have will never arrive

and will always be in the line.

 

Sandler Boggs

poet

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