Vision is a tempered thing
Mixed with free imagining,
When first we breathe in light—
When human webs unite.

Spirit rises in the vein,
Surging into new terrain.
Then it falls back into soul,
Engulfed again within the whole.

Memory begins to trace
Footsteps of an ancient race,
Like one who goes from stone to stone
In ruins that he once called home.

©2016 Michael Fraley

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