In quest of the Narrative

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Narratives abound, compelling, competing tales

of triumphs and woes, all in a race to close the circle

and comprehend how we all tie in.

Nature is not beyond skin, we are an integrated whole

but we struggle to find peace amongst ourselves.


Where is the star to help us recover our path —


the language of laws, the rules that states construct

for nations to follow, the imposition of border control

that allows us a glance through a small window

the chance to catch a ray of sunlight?


Little people swim in a fish bowl of fabricated worlds,

their voices suppressed and a wall mounted to bar

free spirits from the quest to find themselves…


the self, the anchor to families, the clans,

the people embraced (according to our Indigenous Mother)

by the Land and the Oceanic life underneath.


Who are we deep down?


The abyss echoes a tiny voice:


It is not for any of us to decide who can or cannot enter

the circle of privilege, or tamper with the breath of life

gifted by the Absolute.


Stories and myths vie for our attention now.

We are driven within to trace our past,

to find our deepest meaning.


When our vision fades from self-inflicted chaos,

the future beckons from the stillness of our soul

that it is time for all in one

to bridge the knowledge/spirit gap

and vanquish the chasm that attempts

to annihilate all faith and hope.


Our breath of life must never exhaust

our potential for the fullness of growth.


Life, a gift, is precious.


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