Heap of sand
scooped off some dune distant
that'd have blinded me in an instant
Now sits in the mirror showing me
what I otherwise couldn't
A tree
felled from amid its kin
in some thicket distant
Now bears the weight of my ambitions
in the four legs of table
A pod of cotton
swaying in wilderness
flirting with rain and gale
Now woven intricate to keep me
from nature without and within
A drop of divine
mingled with stardust
honed over millennia of evolution
Now ponders ceaseless
over some words and verses made up
Unaware,
the greatest poem
is writing itself
every moment
I breathe being aware
of who I were
before becoming
a sapient fool
searching for muse
or the Gods I could use
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