Samsara

A gazelle knows its place in the food chain when a lion comes calling
As a bare branch waits for leaves
Birds for the river to melt
While idiosyncrasies play out on a loop

They’ll hear all the same refrains
Know all about your moaning like they know their own palms
Feel your pain like they feel their own hunger
Have your humour as if it were their very breath

And in this they still love you
Suffering all because they know you are but a map of themselves

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