Being

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Being — Bet Briggs

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If we opened to the morning
to receive its light, turning
faces soft as petal-down
to absorb the touch of sun,
in earth’s human garden
we would flower
as a living fire,
always fresh an flowing,
we would be, each morning
born anew, one with sun,
light to light returning
living fire flowering
in the garden of the universe.

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