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I was born of this land
it is inside of me
and in everything I do.
identity is not who you are
but what you are made of.
I am the hillside bathed
in gold from the setting sun.
I am the water that runs
and crow that flies.
I am oak reaching
for the pale twilight.
I am the worn road
fading into the horizon
falling off of the earth.


Written by burrben

June 7, 2011 at 2:22 pm

Posted in poetry

Tagged with , , , ,

2 Responses

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  1. This is truly lovely. I believe we are the universe all these things, intrinsically a part of everyone and everthing


    June 8, 2011 at 7:04 am

  2. love it,

    bless your day.


    June 24, 2011 at 9:54 am

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