The Photographer

“One, Two, Three!”

Within you and within me,
the hunger is to be free.

Waiting still for the light to come,
to free us, to free some.

A search of freedom,
and the search of light
is in the place called in-finite.

Rounds and smaller bounds,
sucked down in the hole, we go
like the screech of a crow.
Rushing on bumps and cracks,
my eyes haven’t forgotten to cry,
but I forgot to fly high, up in the sky.

Floating quietly, with one beat,
and yet another shrink to meet.

I open my eyes, elsewhere I look
to understand the mighty grand cook.

“One, Two, Three!”



3 responses to “The Photographer

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