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Rain Station


When Brahman rolls into focus
gluons, quarks find their place
force becomes matter and
I becomes aware of you -
ME is landed in a soup!

I can't let go of this...
not in out-of-season 'Monsoon'
or in summerine winters
or in re-stirred vapors
nor in estranged digital crackle
from fading railway stations;
I is caught in the spiral of rain-flow
like memory gelled in neurotubules
creeping along, in-exo-rab-ly.

But where leaves rise like prayers
and the wind is laden with Rain-scent
and the I (Eye) is bare, un-adorned
I stand free and waving
letting go, all the time.


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