What was that strangely familiar,
birdlike sound warbling up
from the deepest chasm
between thinking and feeling?
Whistling that comes
from spontaneous thinking-feeling
aliveness
that's been quiescent for weeks
during the overwrought era
of recent agitated,
yet ultimately purifying, pathos.
Whistling that leaps
across the chasm
bridging the thinking-feeling ledges
of it's about time to fly.
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