Token of self

Edges chipped and worn,
serrated by the soul,
the boundary of self
where time chews slow,

forlorn, and in the simple
doing, and being of us
all, we are remade, re-
formed, reborn, as who

we’re meant to be, while
even in those moments,
we have no knowledge
sure, no sense of what’s

intended, just knowing
there is more; beyond
the mere token that we
see of our material self.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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1 Response to Token of self

  1. merrildsmith says:

    Lovely–much to ponder here.

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