Splattered and blown up into bodies,
we walk together
flames
inside different dandelions
being blown by one child.
in the round, round world.
Life is a room with a prayer of unity on each doorpost.
Kissing it on our way into each new place.
Into a land of Om, peace signs, crosses, who knows, a Magen David, or a dragon’s mouth.
What is branded on the souls of your feet?
How do you walk
knees bent,
Bowing
in the round,
round world?
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