We rise. Remember. Rage.
We plant our feet to mats in prayer.

Our feet to pedals. Feet to concrete and take off, so far and so fast.
We are so fast.

The past won’t even see us.
Maybe we’ll outrun it. Out smart it. Out do it with all our new language and systems.

We keep passing it, all bundled and wise, all cloaked in its infinite lessons.

He lives there. She lives there. We.

So many in there, that past.

And there’s no time to linger.

Remember.
Rage.
Run.

So fast.
We are so fast.

Until the Earth breaks beneath us and our lungs can’t keep the pace and we sink into the soft familiar mud of it. Desperate and wanting.

Forced to slow on in,  step by step remembering how to walk ourselves back home…

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