Like an old man trying to return soup

When do we lose them?
Our balls…
Our connection with the grimy earth, with the real?
When do we give up and allow ourselves to desire
the constraints
Of mediocrity
And fear
And expectations?
When do we stop dreaming
and believing in the incredible,
the impossible,
the sacred
That is us?

When do we become aliens
To this very earth?
Who we should call mother,
…whom we all smother,
With our fear.
Of our


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