Awareness

A chorus of spirits hum
In the droning of the vents
Another choir tweets outside the windows
A million unseen wriggle and work beneath the floor

Large wheeled spirits pass each other
Some with caution, others with abandon
All laden with spirits, they cross, they move, and you only hear them truly when they’re no longer synchronized

If we were honest, we would acknowledge that our homes are made of the Dead and spirits
Their foundations laying upon layers of the Dead and spirits of the world
The guts, made of fallen timber and mined earth, and the skin of wood, metal, and thin layers of dinosaur and plant stretched across them

All this takes to see is a turn of the head, an opening of the eyes
A spirit for every grain of sand, for every drop of water, for every bite of food
All deserving honor in their turn

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