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He is the wheat in
a field, a metaphor, a media
piece shaken by the west, the wind
blowing from over top of that mountain,
the one with a white top.
He wanders away from the valley
and wonders about what it’s
like to be on top,
asks the the one behind him,
what it’s like to sweep
down, to brush up goodness
to call good news what it is.

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