Where are you?

Dreaming of fruits, and blooms, and roots from seeds not yet sown?

A different time? A different place? Another’s life? Another’s face? Another’s making?

Or perhaps your own?

But, where are you?

Lost? Smothered, trampled, crowded, and suffocating?  Starving and alone?

Another time? A better place? In nicer shoes?  Another’s race?

Or perhaps your own?

So…where are you?

‘Cause one day you’ll be old and gray.

Fleeing birth; chasing decay.

And when the line changes from are to were you’ll know then what’s worth knowing.

You’re what you are ’cause where you are, where you’ve been, and where you’re going.

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