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Not Averse
In the beginning,
only this,
a sound.
A sound
whose waves expand,
whose echoes still expend
themselves in riffs of time and space,
in overlapping amplitudes of bliss,
pattering into patterns, into persons, into us,
conscious harmonics, singing face to face.
Resounding into music now, we trace
in touches of a single string, our source,
flowing in everything, for everything
in the beginning, in the end,
is only this,
a sound.