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Poetry

Where Do We Go?

Where do we go?
Where do we go walking out the front door?
Where do these restless souls take us?
Tired of carrying ourselves.
Out there a few steps past the sidewalks, front lawns, and street lamps lies our everyday.
Are we the mundane?
Are we the miracle?
Are we the hands that hold the sky or the creatures calling it home?
We forget these days.
The moments between the moments.
The passing and going.
The routine and practice.
Where do we go?