My work is loving the world.
For its sharp ugliness.
For its retched pain
wreaked on those who deserve it the least.
I love this world because I am this world.
I am a life destined to breath my last breath
on this world.
As the plants in my garden,
I am this world.
Connected to other life on the planet.
I gather my flowers and crush leaves into smoking jars.
I lay my crystal to breathe under mother moon at night.
I set fire to my altar,
a tribute of the lives before me.
A reminder that, I too, have a life to live,
a life worth living,
in this cold, cold, West.
I keep myself alive to love
in this world.
I keep myself alive, because there is a life to keep
in this world.
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