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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The Yellowstone

Its caldera holds a lake
and a range of cloudy mountains
on its rim.
The sky opens like paper.
There is peace in the middle
of its emptiness.
We put our lives here
and walk the trails of its forest.
A planet burning up inside.
Ages printing out its destiny.

It is the same everywhere
in the heavens.
Beyond serenity is thunder.
Beyond the pearl of the moon
are asteroids.
Inside our hearts is rust
clogging its tributaries.
The most beautiful bouquets
are stars exploding into novas.

We live between hurricane and flood,
but persist in our love of beauty.
What lies beyond our souls?
The Yellowstone comes back,
do we?
Are the dreams inside us as dangerous?

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