Stone Layers

stone layers- Version 5

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We Lay Stone

to lay Memory

 keep our thoughts

Focused

In One Place

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by placing one Stone

upon another

We fashion Order

from our inconsistencies

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by fitting one stone

next to another

we generate Sense

to our Incongruous

Dealings

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Build a Sequence from Chaos

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 Assemble Continuity

to our Story

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We Are Stone layers

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The Call

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Can you hear the geese?

the wiring sounds

of so many wings

in motion

A Reminder

of unremitting Change

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the punctuated Call:

we’re here, there’s water

let‘s settle

for a moment

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can you hear the geese

she says again

Elated

the honking cacophony

passes overhead

lasting

like the passing of a train

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the Sound

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a crescendo swelling

then fading

into the twilight

of damp Earth

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the punctuality

of Nature

driven by degrees

of Sunlight

a gland

pineal

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can you hear them

she says

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through and through

I reply

through and through

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adjustednick-zungoligeese-flight-bw

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Heart Intelligence

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

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There is Comfort in Believing

Good & Evil

Are Two Separate and Opposing Entities

Keeps Us Safe

in a Black and White World

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Reality, however, is Different

Choices offer themselves

at Every Step:

to do the right thing

is Not always the Easy thing

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Not Simply an act of random kindness

Rather

Means Seeing the Humanity

Facing You

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that Person who has States of Mind

As You Do

Hunger, Insomnia,

As You Do

walks their dog

As You Do

suffers headaches

pangs of joy

As You Do

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The Minute we SEE the Other

As Less

We Descend a Slippery slope

Perpetuating

Evil in the most Ordinary way

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This SIGHT is a Choice

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unquestioned

it becomes

a Way of Life

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Have You Been Your Own Messiah?

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Do you ever Wonder

If I were to die Now

would I die stupid?

or

has my life been full

of giving a hand

listening to broken

hearts, the keening

of Geese, interspersed

with picking my nose

sharing my food, my drink

heeding the Call of Destiny?

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Did I Stand enough?

Balance those moments

when cowering, I Sat?

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Do you ever Wonder

who would I be Now

were I to die hit by a car

instantaneously?

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what have you done

for Yourself, Others

the Earth?

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You realize too

once the few

who know you Pass

no memory of your Time

Here remains

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Do you ever wonder

Have I been my own Messiah?

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Art Work by Yaron Rosner

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

                                                                                                                                           Für Meine Christina

Our Rise

for Countless Millennia

 we Chewed our way

through the day

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hundreds of thousands of years

we lived a life

centered

on masticating, sleeping

and mating

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our Formidable

remaining jaws

show Powerful Teeth

designed to break down

bark, tubers and grasses

for Hours

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our skulls

Smaller

suggest an undersized brain

too busy Chewing

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A Shift Occurred

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that Formidable jaw

Retracts

resembling what we have now

Simultaneously

our skull’s cavity

Expands

allowing our brains

to increase threefold

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 by the size of our diminished jaw

and larger crown

it Appears

we have discovered

Meat

and the application of Fire

 resulting

in Cooked Fare

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Metabolizing

half digested food

and spending less of our day Chewing

Equals

gaining many more calories for time spent eating

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Gives Us So Much More

Bang for our Buck

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Consequently,

Our Brains,

Such Hungry Organs,

Evolve Voraciously

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we begin Envisioning

a future, a past,

even the Sacred

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That Moment

when the Lion

became an Image

of Power and Dignity

the Sky

a benevolent Father

the Earth

a Mother

whose Law must be heeded

lest we suffer

her Retribution

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That Moment

was the Hour

of Our Becoming

when

unlike any other living being

we began Speaking

a language of Symbols

depicting the Imaginary

the Allegorical

and the Metaphysical

superimposing

Humans and Nature

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self reflective

we Became what we Are

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the Symbolic Species

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Art Work by Yaron Rosner

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

My Other Mother

To Sima Mizrachi

Dark Woman with Dark eyes

you reached out to me

took me as your own

Those Arms

such weathered olive branches

held me

your Boundless Humor

shook me

 Solid you Stand

Wise with Fruit

Gift of your Heart’s Intelligence

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I miss you my dark mother

 Warmth of Countless

Years of Gathered Sunshine

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once the center of your tribe

You are its very Essence

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Sima

Sima

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Beyond The Call Of Duty

Pour Papa

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Dad's funeral Beyond the call of duty

Photograph by Yaron Rosner

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what were you thinking

as you repeatedly crawled

into Gunfire?

reaching for your Fallen

comrades

heaving them onto stretchers

all the while hugging

the Earth

Oblivious to explosions

impervious to Bullet Rain

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was it youthful conviction

in immortality

or teeth gritting defiance

of Death?

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Your gathered Freedom Fighters

pushed onwards

heartened by an enemy

retreating

seeing a glow

in what appeared

At Last

the Darkest Tunnel’s End

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cleaning and dressing wounds

relieving Pain

where you could

carrying Them

desperately

close to your heart

as they took a last Breath

holding their hands

an Angel to the fevered

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So many Fell

you survived

a Keeper of the Story

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Those were Thunderous Times

Returning

to the small things

of ordinary life

awoke Torment

subdued by action

pursued you into the Everyday

Until

refusing to buckle

you Succumbed

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the voices, so many

so vociferous,

so demanding

you became Two

like Wolves

they fought for your heart

in the end

only the one you fed

could win

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The Beautiful Minds

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Painting By Felix Vallotton

Painting By Felix Vallotton

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 the Minds

That Compel Us

To Lift Our Heads

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 sweep Dust

from darkened corridors

convey  Light

turn Alleyways

into 4 lane Boulevards

tributary streams

into powerful Rivers

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Minds that

with a Gleam

and a Nod

open Doors

 Create Vistas

Broad and Beautiful

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leave us convinced

Of A Journey

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a taste of Opportunity

lying in Wait

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 should we choose

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those People

of those Minds

teach us

For A Moment

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to Give

a little further

Fear a little less

stretch a fraction harder

love ourselves

just

that bit more

keenly

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On This Day

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On this Day

I write for You

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On this Day

Our Memories Collide

Merge and Coalesce

make us that Single

Person with so many Others

where, with amalgamated

memories potentiating

each other

we become a part

of something so much Bigger

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our personal wills ineffective

we can only feel

and re-feel

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a Spiral of ever increasing

and decreasing

Intensity

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On this Day

you and I

are One

Encompassing a Body

of Millions

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whether of The Murdered

 The Survivors

or The Saved

we are them

and each other

For a Day

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On this Day

I write for Us

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Small Things

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the Essential Value

Born from

 the little movements of life,

 small repeated gestures

that Nurture a child into Form

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the Radiance of a Glance

maintaining the food link

to the Soul

Nourishment

or its deprivation

and subsequent Hunger

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It’s in the Repeated

acts of kindness

a being Blossoms

in Reverence

to the god of Small Things

we understand our own Importance

as Care Givers

not in the god of large things,

the foolish red herrings

lead us Astray

from the real necessity

of being Here Now

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It’s for those Small

Things in small

moments, I love you,

the rest

I ‘ve allowed myself

 to leave behind

in peace

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Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Art Work By Yaron Rosner