Blue leaves growing green in marginal light as if we existed by circumstance and none Other but me spoke of Chance I don

t intend to be complicated. Along the lines of a contoured Ridge spoke a delicate power of a mystery of somethings and saying it everyday that where we arrived as beings was invoked. Say it simple. What is it? I m not sure. An American citizenship then. IT can t be real: it s supposed to come From us, Our ownselves, not by half measures. Where there is one Footstep , let there be more. Until as Langston sang : we ve become