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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


The blue chrysalis above
holds our lives.
Beyond is the immense forest
of the heavens.
Below are songs breathing
through our hearts,
and I listen to heartbeats.
To the small, fragile treasure
of a womb.
Baby in the reeds of life’s river.
Coming to us from the headwaters
of conception.
Child, becoming cell by cell
its own singularity.

Boy, from which a world
will become the ancestor
of new worlds.
And I hear his name
whispered secretly
among trees he will climb,
see words from which
his name is spelled,
dream dreams,
where his childhood will run,
and to whom he will come,
when we call his unfinished
and hold him in our arms.

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