That’s exactly what they wanted to happen. That years… decades… centuries down the line People would not only *not* remember who they are, and where they came from… But uprooted like weeds, the ones they saw in disgust… disdain… yes,
You Are Us
Mid-Morning’s Knowing
The rusted funnel of my consciousness wanders among the clouds of mid-morning’s knowing, and only the butterfly understands the tunnel of lightness that has opened, that has swallowed me whole, resisting nothing, saying nothing, holding only the knowledge of trust