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We Are Suspended In Transit

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  We are in Transit Poem: We step forward. Each step stirs dust into the air. The dry, shifting evening air. The sun is neither fully risen nor a witness. A silent guardian. Beginnings and endings, both here and just. At this hour. And yet shared. This is where time unravels. Where place dissolves and where movement lingers without. No words, no destination. This is the place. This is the sacred space. Each step cannot ignore faith. Where time unravels. Where movement lingers without end. A witness, a silent guardian. Beginnings and endings. Both here in the distance. The burden we carry is more than we thought. It is more than it is more than distance. It's the stories waiting to be uncovered. And the bond we strengthen along the way. Unanswered questions. Deferred dreams. The hope, the hope of arrival, leads us forward. At this threshold, we are neither lost nor found. We walk in the in-between. Each step whispers. Here we are. Here we are in the middle, in the middle and transit

Where is this road taking us?



It is the same place and same time
Being in a different time and associated with the same construct
So much place is taken up by the same being
Is the need to move forward a priority over being in place and time?
No matter how far we have traveled the same social construct has remained steadfast in place.





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