To anyone who submits honest thank-you
to the universe and if they’ve wised up—
to innate beauty’s surging form and trim
let this be a yield, a reply, an assurance—
a sign, a token, a clue, a hint that, out there,
someone tracks and tails and knows and sends
his or her flaming whiff, a helping of the elixir,
laid to brush and dust what brings one’s own
divine resonance otherwise bound to slip
the numb down the voiding pit of sleep.
Let that gift sincerely so earned wherever is
a soul’s live seed, then an ear that tops a stem
and then even a crown of flowering into which,
to refresh your face, a point of true presence wades.
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