In Utero

I’m streaming a river of feelings and naught, a river that weaves through my thought.

From color and passion my movements are wrought, seduced by their hues and besought.

On many souls’ wings I am carried along, a witness to both right and wrong.

I straddle the edge between life and beyond, not sure to which one I belong.

I live in continuous flux in the berth of reality watching its birth.

I’m here, then I’m not, then I’m back here, called forth, if ‘here’ is a place on this earth.

The soft ebb and flow that appearance assumes both comforts and gently entombs.

I’m safe in existence, this strange, endless room, like babies are safe in the womb.

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