it's their paths. because i am dependent on them.
it's Your Message. because it is my air and my blood.
it's the moments between the lights turned out and the eyelids shut.
it's why it was different this time.
it's seeing the end in things.
it's a redwood forest.
it's a blanket, a couch, a movie and a friend.
it's the photographs in my prayerbook.
it's January 2008. what was taken, what was given, what was realized.
it's grandpa's hands.
it's the tuning of your guitar that takes me to a screening of memories.
it's the dreams i dreamt in Haifa. my closed eyes gazing on the Queen of Carmel.
it's meeting someone, and having your initial impressions blown away.
it's tears shed in amazement.
it's everydays.
it's looking up under trees.
it's walking through museums.
it's having my soul sewn to theirs.
it's a letter to a friend.
it's riding my bicycle at 3 a.m.
it's knowing who "me" is.
it's what i discover in being silent.
it's harmonizing to everything.
it's everything i think about on the car rides home.
it's in davis.
it's where i came from, and where i went, where i am now, and where i'll go.
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