Everything Happening

My roses are blooming, my yellow roses,

and a child is dying of hunger 

or disease or a gunshot or grief 

and someone is laughing and someone is crying

and someone is lifting a cup, a star 

is exploding, a heart

is breaking, the wind is blowing

over a desert, over a forest, over the sea,

and it is morning and it is evening

and it is the first day and the last

and every moment somewhere

the Host is being raised 

in the air, 

in the air, in the air.

—-

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