What Must Be

Dormant in dry divots,
in the basins,
what I am, what I will and what I will be
is rained, is whetted,
by what is, what is not and what will not be.

There blooms the green resilient,
the sulphured algae,
hot spurned by weathers –
the must of us.

There plumes communion –
chance and wide endeavor –
flush and fumed –
above the gathered ponds.

Image: Darion Queen on Unsplash

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