In the jungle of my mind
I cannot see the sky nor feel the wind
The oppression of compressed details
Why or where or when
Under the canopy of cultural voices
Blocking out the sun
I can't see or hear
What I've worked out or won
I can't see the words
My higher self has written
Except for from another
Who reflects them back to me
That's why the books are written
To preserve infinity.
Eve Featherstone
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